Only Human
by louiecat68
Summary: Author: sykira and louiecat68  Pairing/Characters: Tenth Doctor/Donna  Rating: PG-13, violence, swearing, mentions of noncon  Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC   Summary: Donna is captured into servitude on an alien planet. Donna whump, H/C
1. Chapter 1

**There's a place in the darkness that I used to cling to**

**It presses harsh hope against time…**

**And I know they are wrong when they say I am strong**

**As the darkness covers me**

**Martyrs And Thieves**

**Jennifer Knapp**

The room radiated with dusty heat. Sweat raced down her neck and face as her sore hands picked up the pace. A table full of nut-like fruit lay before her, the double shells taking extra effort to remove, slicing her hands time and time again, the acidic juices from the alien fruit burning through the cuts.

But Donna was used to the pain and did not pause in her work, the bosses here were not above physical abuse if quota was not made. She may not understand their strange language, but the beatings spoke for themselves.

After a few violent run-ins, now she tried to blend in as best as she could, but her back and legs bore the scars of the guards' attentions. Her hair color stood out in the sea of dark heads bowed over the endless tables on the factory floor, and the back of a hand or club found her more often than others as a result.

In her mind the last scenes she could remember of a life before this one replayed endlessly until they seemed no more than a bedtime story. There was a beach, sparkling sand, fine like diamond dust getting in her shoes until she took them off and curled her toes in the warm pink grains, endless sunshine glistening on the water.

And a hand. A man's hand with long sensitive fingers, holding hers while they walked along the edge of the waves.

She prayed with each breath for the man to find her, she prayed he was still alive. And as time passed, she prayed he had ever really existed at all.

But as the months wore on she knew her memory was playing tricks on her, and that such a beach couldn't be real. Impossible things had happened that day. For instance she could hear her own laughter as the hand took her shoes she was carrying and managed to squeeze her purple converse into his pocket, leaving not even a bulge.

Sometimes, in the dark of night, she liked to pretend other things had happened on that beach, with the breeze ruffling his brown spiky bangs and his deep eyes on hers as he drew her close when the sun began to set. She would get so lost in the fantasy that she could taste his lips on hers, gentle and shy.

Donna recognized this escapism for what it was, just dreams. Nonetheless, they sustained her when the pain here threatened to overwhelm her, and so she treasured every moment of that day on the beach.

The next thing she remembered was foggy at best. They were separated on a space station, he was telling her to stay in the control room while he settled the dispute with leaders. Within moments after he left she was rendered unconscious by hands unseen and spirited off the space station, then in murky glimpses of what remembrance she could string together, as far as she could understand it, she had been sold to the highest bidder by a slave trafficking ring.

The work on this planet was long and grueling, and yet she still felt lucky to have avoided purchase by the sex slave traffickers. The phrase for a sex worker was one of the first words she had learned here, as she struggled to comprehend the common speech of the other slaves. One of the other girls had been roughly dragged away with much screaming and when she had made inquiring noises to the other women their answering gestures had left little room for doubt where the girl was going.

Some of the other workers here were not sold as sex slaves but they were used this way by the bosses. Donna felt bad for the girls they singled out for this, and earned herself more than a few good kicks trying to defend them, but she was thankful she was not among them. This did not mean the bosses and guards did not grope or pinch but at least aside from the bruises and the welts she did not have anything else to show for it.

There was no electricity here so they worked from sunrise to sundown. From what she could tell this was at least a fifteen-hour day, at the end of which they were herded back into a small windowless building with wooden shelves that served as bunks. Their daily meal was served at night: a ration of bitter soup. Donna did not recognize the taste but it made her sick if she ate more than a quarter of the bowl. This at least gave her something to curry favor with her fellow inmates, trading the remains of her meal for help when needed.

Once the sun went down the temperature dropped drastically. Several people huddled together trying to find whatever comfort they could in each other's meager warmth shared the "beds". She tried to keep track of days by counting the nights and from what she could tell she had been there for at least eight months. With the work, lack of nutrition and the constant abuse she felt her body getting weaker.

It was getting harder for her to remain calm with each passing day, to keep pushing through and not succumb to despair. Staring at the wooden planks of the bunk above her, she could hear the nagging voice in the back of her head chanting that she was a million miles and centuries out of time from her home. The idea of some spaceman rescuing her seemed more like a distant hopeful dream as time marched by her, until one day she realized she knew he was never real at all.

Donna could not say for sure, but it seemed the planet was heading into some kind of summer season, the work days seemed longer and longer, and she was less and less able to handle the exertion, or even to crawl from her bunk in the mornings. The malnutrition was catching up with her and her hands shook from sun up to when she finally threw herself into her bunk at night. The only small glimmer of life here was that a couple of the other workers had taken a shine to her eventually, following one day when she had put herself between one of the slighter girls who was getting harassed by a gang boss and earned a solid cuff around the ears for her trouble.

The shadows of the bruises still made her jaw ache, but the boss had left the girl alone after that so to Donna it was worth all the punishment they could throw at her. Although without the TARDIS she still couldn't understand their language, she had picked up the odd phrase and her attempts to stammer out their words also seemed to endear her to them. It wasn't much, but the occasional smile thrown in her direction was a semblance of connection and warmth in an otherwise inhospitable environment.

In the back of her mind she struggled to cobble together some kind of plan, some kind of solidarity that could be built up between the workers, but then her stomach would growl with the ever-present hunger and another wave of exhaustion would sweep her thoughts away.

She hadn't realized just how bad she had gotten until one afternoon when the bright hot sun seemed to slant at a funny angle through the roof top panels and the next thing she knew she had collapsed on the workroom floor. With a few vicious kicks for good measure the guards had hauled her off to the sleeping quarters, in the middle of the day.

Tossing her unceremoniously on the bed, the men stood over her, discussing something in short, sharp phrases, using the almost staccato speech patterns she was always struggling to understand. Donna watched them warily, seeing that all too familiar speculative look in their eyes as they seemed to realize they were alone here with her. Knowing she was too tired to fight them she lifted one weak arm anyway and pushed at the rough hand of the fatter one when he started fondling her.

Then his comrade barked something, a phrase she did recognize, causing her abuser to drop his hand rapidly with a muttered curse. She blinked, and the room swam around her as the men retreated, locking her in the darkness of the windowless bunk room. Could she really have heard them right? The warning of the guard, it was the phrase for a designated sex slave. Donna shook her head, she must simply be too disoriented to think straight, then she closed her eyes and gave in to the blessed sleep that overtook her, transporting her to better places and a gentler man, awaiting her in her dreams.

By that evening Donna was bleary-eyed as she joined the others for their paltry meal, and by then she was sure she had heard him wrong. It couldn't be that once she was no longer fit for the factory work they would sell her on as a sex slave, could it? Perhaps sensing her distress, one of her friends patted her on the shoulder and they shared a small smile. She wished she could ask her about it, she wished she had the knowledge of languages she imagined her dream man to have, sure would be handy right about now, she mused with a rueful quirk of her lips, and then hurried on to thinking about something else, trying to avoid the deepest fear she held: that she was losing even the memory of that dream. Even though he was just a figment of her over-active imagination, some kind of defense mechanism her mind had created to give her a lifeline of hope, she needed that escapism like she needed air to breathe. She had been here so long now no other reality seemed true.

As preposterous as the idea was that she would be anyone's idea of a sex slave, Donna worked even harder the next few days, forcing herself to stay conscious, willing her fingers to worker faster and her muscles to stop trembling. But when a strong hand closed around her arm at the end of her shift her stomach sank as she was dragged away, the now familiar phrase issued curtly from the guards in answer to questions from her friends, and there was no longer any room for doubt where they were taking her.

**Hold on**

**Hold on to yourself**

**for this is gonna hurt like hell**

**Hold On to Yourself**

**Sarah McLachlan **

They brought her back out to the middle of the workroom, and stood her in the last dying rays of sunlight. It took Donna a moment to realize what they were doing but when she followed their gaze up to the glass of the boss's office where it overlooked the factory floor she thought she could see a man looking down at her. But the sun was in her eyes and the tall, shadowy figure turned away before she could be sure he was ever there at all.

The guard's radio crackled into life suddenly and she jumped. Over the air she heard a noise she had come to learn was an affirmation, although of what she didn't know. But the churning of her stomach did know: she had been chosen for some man. She closed her eyes and dragged her feet as they led her away. iNo/i she screamed in her head. No. Not this. Everything else she could endure, could steel herself to get through the day, but not this, please no. And why now? She was a wreck, sometimes her friends had to support her even for the short walk back to her bunk in the evenings, who could possibly want her?

Despising herself for it, she felt hot tears burn their way down her cheeks. She could have coped with this when they first brought her here. Maybe. But now? She didn't think she had any reserves left at all. How much more would she have to endure? Fear burned through her shaking body as she tried to reel in her unfettered emotions.

Donna fought down nausea as they pressed her against a wall in an elevator that seemed to go up and down and sideways all at once. By the time they reached their destination her legs would no longer obey her and one of the guards hefted her up in his arms like a rag doll without even a grunt of effort. He set her down in front of a large suite of rooms, and with that jarring staccato communication, delivered her into the care of a severe-looking matronly woman who stood ramrod straight in the doorway.

The exchange completed, the men waited until she was led into the foyer and the door closed and locked behind them. Donna lifted her chin and regarded the woman, trying to look as defiant as possible.

"I'm nobody's flippin' sex slave, you hear me, lady?"

Her brave words were only slightly belied by her shaking legs, Donna decided. To her great surprise the woman only smiled kindly and inclined her head to her. Donna frowned, confused. The woman began to speak, her words were still the stilted speech of the locals, and completely unintelligible as ever, but her voice was also warm and friendly, although firm in a no-nonsense nurse kind of way.

She indicated for Donna to follow her and started to walk into one of three rooms. Still frowning, Donna pointedly ignored her and turned instead to the door, wrenching the handle with all her might. It didn't budge.

Smiling sympathetically, the matron came back over to Donna, still talking softly, and gently took her by the hand. Wanting to resist but seeing no alternative at this point, Donna sighed and let herself be led into what turned out to be a luxurious bathroom. There was a huge tub in the middle of the room, already full of steaming water, and all manner of soaps and shampoos arranged on a low shelf.

She bit the inside of her lip. How long had it been since she had had a real bath? She literally couldn't remember, the very idea seemed more fantasy than actual memory.

The matron stepped behind a screen and Donna stood irresolute for another moment, not wanting to go along with any part of this voluntarily. But the water looked so inviting.

"Screw it," she muttered, and quickly stripped, sinking into the depths of the warm water. It felt like silk on her skin, raw after all this time working with the acidic juices in the factory. She stirred some kind of milky bubbles into the water to hide her modesty not that the matron spared her more than a quick glance when she emerged from behind the screen.

She wordlessly gathered up Donna's clothes, earning herself an indignant "Oi!" to which she paid no heed, indicating instead a gauzy white smock on the back of the screen. Then she disappeared with a soft click of the bathroom door lock and Donna worried at her lip again.

She spent as much time getting cleaned up as she possibly could, emptying and refilling the bath over and over until every last trace of factory grime was gone. No one bothered her the whole time. Now dressed in the ridiculous robe Donna was thankful that it was long and modestly cut, but it felt so strange to have such soft fabric on her still sensitized skin.

The matron appeared again, with a pitcher of water, and motioned for her to follow into a kind of sitting room. Donna entered the room hesitantly once she ascertained it was empty of anyone else, and perched on the edge of a couch, eyeing the water appreciatively, barely noticing when the other woman started talking, slipping into a tone that sounded like she was delivering a familiar set of instructions.

The woman kept looking at her expectantly and Donna tried her best to ignore her, and to ignore the dawning realization that the woman was telling her what she was expected to do here tonight. Glad for once for the lack of translation Donna sniffed dismissively (although it came out more of a plaintive sniffle) and the woman pressed a tissue into her hand without pausing in her practiced refrain.

When she finally got to the end of her patter, Donna piped up. "Yeah, well, Romeo is just going to have to wing it, Nurse Betty, cause I don't understand a word you're sayin'."

The matron simply looked at her for a moment and then from nowhere produced a hairbrush and began to smooth Donna's damp hair away from her face.

"What, they don't like the bedraggled factory worker look around here then?" Donna tried to sneer but in truth she had no strength to do anything but submit to the woman's strong but careful hands, and try not to cry again; she was being treated so unusually gently it undercut her defenses.

Finally satisfied, the matron led her to the final room, which was the largest yet, and dominated by a huge bed. She motioned for Donna to sit on the bed, an instruction Donna decided to treat as merely a suggestion. She stood in the doorway instead while the woman began matter-of-factly to turn down the sheets and plump the pillows.

Gesturing again for Donna to come into the room and onto the bed, the woman smiled sympathetically when Donna simply jutted out her chin and planted her feet firmly on the floor.

"I want water," Donna announced, and mimed drinking before spinning on her heel and getting out of the bedroom as fast as her trembling legs would carry her.

She got only a few steps into the hallway when there was a knock at the door and she froze in place, her heart leaping into her throat.

Giving her arm a warm squeeze as she walked past, the matron exited the bedroom and headed for the main exit.

"No! Don't, please, no!" Donna followed her as fast as her weak knees would allow, panic flooding through her, but the woman disregarded her and opened the door anyway, with a key she produced from one of her apron's many pockets.

Donna froze. Through the doorway the guards were negotiating something with the nurse, and there was obviously no way to make a bolt for freedom. The nurse turned back and motioned once more for Donna to go back into the bedroom behind her, and this time she did, beyond rational thought, simply wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and whatever man, or (she shuddered) men, who were about to come through that door.

She fled into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her, retreating to the far wall before her legs gave out under her and she sank to the floor, tears prickling painfully behind her eyes again. Out in the foyer she heard the unmistakable sound of the main door closing and locking.

"No," she whispered, clenching her hands and dropping her head to her knees.

"I can do this," she told herself, trying to make it sound real. She closed her eyes and said it again, and knew it was a lie. The sound of footfalls approaching the bedroom made her tremble from head to foot and when she heard the door handle turn she wrapped her arms around her head and moaned in fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Hold on to yourself

you know that only time will tell

What is it in me that refuses to believe

this isn't easier than the real thing

Hold On to Yourself

Sarah McLachlan

Time seemed to stop as she sensed, even with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, that someone else was in the room with her now. He closed the door behind him and she couldn't help the whimper that escaped her throat. Biting on the inside of her cheek as the footsteps got even closer, Donna tried to keep silent.

There was a creak as someone knelt down beside her and cold fear slithered down her spine as she felt a touch on her hair.

"It's okay…" a voice murmured, and she stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped feeling.

The voice was speaking English.

It couldn't be, it couldn't, she must be imagining it, no one had spoken to her in words she could understand in months now, she had lost count of how long it had been.

"It's okay, please, look at me, can you move? Are you hurt? Don't be afraid, it's all right…"

Not only was the voice speaking English, she realized dimly in the back of her panic-ridden mind, but it sounded somehow familiar. Her head snapped up and she reeled away from the hand that had now come down to circle her wrist. Yanking her hand away from the man in front of her Donna let out a short sharp scream, and retreated deeper into the corner, staring at his face in something akin to blind terror.

Because now there was something even scarier than being someone's sex slave, now it seemed she must be losing her mind, because the man who had been touching her was wearing Ihis/i face: the man she dreamed about, the face that floated in front of her mind's eye on the days when she was sure she could not go on.

But he wasn't real. He couldn't be. And that meant she really had lost all her marbles.

"Donna…" he breathed, the deep brown eyes filled with pain, his face drawn in fear. His hand trembled, suspended in mid-air where she had pulled away from him.

"Donna, please, say something…" he was whispering now, looking like he was struggling on the edge of sanity himself.

She dropped her head down again and moaned low in her chest.

Both his gentle hands came around her forearms now and she pushed away from him, pressing up against the wall and breathing rapidly.

"Don't! Don't touch me!"

"Donna, I can show you…you don't have to be afraid, it's really me, I have searched for you for so long, but I am here, I am real, I can show you…"

He extended his hand toward her face slowly, his fingers outstretched and shaking. She flinched and shrank back into the corner as much as possible, shaking her head. He stopped moving, agony now etched on every worry line.

Donna gulped, and focused instead on his hand, finding it too unnerving to keep seeing that face staring at her. She swallowed hard at how familiar even his long fingers seemed to be, and tried to gather the last vestiges of her courage.

"No, it can't be, he's not real. Don't you dare touch me again."

She was pleased at how firm her voice sounded, but not surprised; she had always had the ability to bluster no matter how terrified she might be inside.

"This is it, isn't it? I've finally cracked. I'm having some kind of breakdown and my mind has put his face on your body just to make this be something I can handle. Well, you don't fool me, Sunshine, you put your hand on me, I'll bite it right off."

"I'm here, Donna. I'm real, touch me and see, it's me, the Doctor. I'm going to get you out of here."

She grimaced. "Yeah. Right. You and your tiny huge phone box. That's science fiction, I don't hold with that lark, and I suppose you really are an alien, and can time travel, and you expect me to fall for that. What, all I have to do is fuck you, right? And then you'll rescue me. Well, you can forget it, I'm not having any of that nonsense, and if you lay one finger on me I'll kick your skinny ass out the door."

"Donna…" He looked completely lost and simply gazed at her helplessly for a moment before continuing, his adam's apple bobbing nervously. "If that's all science fiction then how come aliens are holding you against your will on an alien planet?"

She thrust her chin out at him and narrowed her eyes, refusing to be outdone, and despite herself, relaxing slightly at the familiarity in his worried but tender bantering tone.

"You aren't gonna out-logic me, Spaceman. If you really were him then the TARDIS would translate for me and I could understand Nurse Ratchett out there when she was giving me her 'how to be a good little sex slave' speech."

She blinked, how had she worked that out when she felt so far beyond rational thought right now?

Sighing, the man who was pretending to be the Doctor folded his long legs into a sitting position in front of her, and looked back at her, his eyes full of guilt and pain.

"I don't have the TARDIS, Donna, I couldn't risk any hint of transport capability or they would not have let me on the planet. Their slaves are one of their more precious commodities, they won't risk losing them for anything but a very high price. But when they do let me buy you out of here we will take a small transport ship to the nearby moon where I left the TARDIS."

He paused suddenly, as if realizing he was rambling nervously. "She misses you too," he finished in a whisper, his eyes misting over for a moment.

He spoke softly, and it seemed her bravado had worked to calm and center him a little, when she had hoped it would do the opposite and knock him off-balance; shouting and posturing was all she had left to scare him off, she couldn't even stand at this point, much less kick anyone out the door as she had previously threatened.

"We'll be out of here in just a few hours, Donna, I promise."

Donna stayed silent. She was still questioning the possibility of this man being the Doctor, questioning her very sanity really. But he seemed so very very real, and solid, and so very Ihim/i. Maybe they had drugged her, but then she had refused even the sip of water the matron had offered her, suspecting just that.

"It was the bath bubbles, wasn't it? Is that how you are messing with my head? Am I hallucinating?"

He chose not to answer, just looked at her intently, his eyes traveling over her face. Donna took a breath and watched the man before her, noting each detail of his appearance. He looked like the man from her dreams, albeit unshaven with large grey circles under his eyes and his suit even more rumpled and creased than ever.

"I have been searching for you for months," he began suddenly, the tone of his voice shifting. "They said you were dead but I knew it couldn't be true."

Maybe it was her overtaxed mind but his eyes seemed to almost devour her features, drinking her in.

"I could feel you, Donna. I could hear you. I don't know how… I just knew you were alive. I am so sorry this happened to you, I lost you, this is all my fault—" He swallowed. "I'm going to get you out of here. Can you walk, do you think?"

He held out a tentative hand towards Donna, but dropped it when she didn't accept it.

Part of her was too stunned, after the months of horrors and frantic prayers this seemed so surreal. He was still talking, something about elapsing time periods for appearances' sake. She didn't follow his thinking, she was simply too tired and confused. But a seed of hope began to grow in her tired heart; only the Doctor could ramble like this without taking a breath.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to rid herself of this traitorous but growing feeling, she knew it would only be all the more bitter when the dream ended and she woke up to the acrid stench of the reality of the factory. It was time to put an end to this charade, and if she made this man angry, whoever he was, well so be it, at least it would be over with sooner.

"Fine." She said, cutting him off mid-ramble. "Then if that's really why you're here, trying to paw me, then let's go, get me out of here then."

His eyes widened when she grabbed his hand, but he recovered enough to close his fingers around her wrist. Her stomach dropped and it took all her willpower not to yank her hand back.

Then Donna went still as her eyes slid to the door, she could hear the guard's laughter outside, floating in from the hallway. The Doctor followed her eyes and lowered his voice.

"That's what I was trying to explain, Donna."

She could hear the apology in his voice and she looked back at him, starting a little as she realized that he had moved closer and was peering intently at her face.

She shivered. She could feel his eyes take in the bruises and the ravages of the past months. He reached out again very slowly and she did not protest save the smallest squeak as his fingers ghosted over her face, her recently battered jaw, his other hand still on her wrist, seeking her pulse.

She saw the worry pass across his face as he focused on her eyes once more. He began talking again, hesitantly, handling her very slowly and softly now, his eyes watching her every movement.

"We cannot go just yet, the only pretext I could use to be here is… well… you said it already. And we have to be in here for a few hours. If we leave just before dawn there's a lull right before the new shift starts, they'll work out a deal faster and ask fewer questions."

His hand moved to her neck. In spite of his gentle touch she flinched away.

"Sounds like an excuse to me, next thing you'll say we have to shag or we can't leave," she retorted bluntly.

With a sigh he shook his head and moved his hand back down to her wrist. Turning her hand over he looked at the ragged torn wounds that crossed her hand and arm.

"These are not healing properly. We need to get you tended to."

He looked again to Donna's face, his stare pinning her in place. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not going to do anything to you but get you out of here, but let's get you into the bed okay? I do think you need some sleep, your heart-rate is too fast."

She snorted. "I'm not gonna close my eyes and let you do who the hell knows what to me."

He moved back a little and released her, moving his hands to his sides. "I am worried about your heart, Donna. I know part of it is that you are scared because of… because of me, and part is because of what has been done to you, but your heart is racing too fast."

"You just want me on the bed so you can have your way with me. Well, I ain't gonna let you near me, I don't care whose face I think I see. I may be one step from the looney bin but as hallucinations go, you picked the wrong face, mister, you picked the one bloke who'd never sleep with me, much less pay money for it."

He stared at her, and lifted his hand, causing her to suck in a breath in fear.

My love

you know that you're my best friend

you know I'd do anything for you

my love

let nothing come between us

my love for you is strong and true

Hold On to Yourself

Sarah McLachlan

Hearing her gasp he froze, a stricken look crossing his face, before he simply moved his hand to rub the back of his neck.

"I know you don't believe me, but I won't hurt you, I won't even touch you again, you are safe with me."

She just looked at him mutely.

He pressed his lips together. "If you really want to talk about the sex slavery then we will." He looked ill, like even the words left a bad taste in his mouth. "I would never do anything with you like that, not in a situation like this one, I would never do anything you didn't want me to."

She sniffed and raised her chin stubbornly. "Now I know you are a figment of my imagination, he would never say it like that, he would never do anything with me at all, nothing to do with me wanting it or not. He and I, we're not like that, we're just mates."

His eyes darkened and the intensity of his tone surprised her. "Donna, you and I are so much more than just mates."

She stared at him. It was the most un-Doctor-like thing he had said so far, and yet suddenly more than ever she desperately needed it to really be him.

Then just like that he stood up and left the room.

She blinked. Just when she was wondering if he had ever really been there at all, he returned, carrying the pitcher of crystal clear water and a glass. He set them down on the nightstand then retreated to the opposite corner of the room, settling himself against the wall, still saying nothing further.

She watched him warily, the grim but determined look on his face so familiar, the set of his lips, thin with tension, and most of all, his eyes, so darkly intense and sad. She had been on edge around the men here for so long now that learning to read the hunger in their eyes had become a necessary survival skill. But this man, gazing at her with so much raw emotion, it was unsettling.

Eventually, taking several deep breaths, she got her feet underneath her and tried to stand, lurching onto her knees on the first attempt. She kept a watchful eye on him the whole time, but apart from wincing when her kneecaps hit the floor, he made no move, to come to her aid or otherwise.

By the time she had righted herself and pulled herself up with the support of a chair she could see him trembling with the effort of not moving and knew he was making his point that he wouldn't touch her without her permission.

Wobbling her way to the bed she sat on the edge unsteadily, breathing irregularly and rearranging her smock over her legs. She looked up to find him still watching her. He inclined his head slightly toward the water pitcher on the nightstand and they both turned to look at it.

Donna's stomach clenched viciously as slow droplets of condensation made their way down the side of the glass and she tried to remember the last time she had drunk water without first waiting for the silt to drift to the bottom of the beaker, the murky taste of dust following every swallow.

She wanted the water so badly but she didn't fancy her chances of getting the whole way over or around the bed to reach it.

She looked back at him. He gave her a wan smile and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

She blew out a breath. She knew what he was doing, or more to the point, overdoing, and it was just so him, it was both infuriating and yet dangerously, entrancingly, filling her with hope.

"Oh, for goodness sake, are you going to help me out here or what?"

He smiled and opening his eyes he jumped nimbly to his feet, bringing her a glass quick as a flash, only slowing down when he was within an arm's length of her. She took the glass gingerly from his outstretched hand and clasped the cold glass of water as firmly as she could as he poured it, but her hand was shaking too badly to bring it to her lips. Instead she spilled drops on her dress and feeling ridiculous for doing so, started to cry again before she could help herself.

Then a warm hand covered hers and held her steady as he helped her raise the glass again. The cold water was pure and was the best thing Donna had ever tasted, which didn't help her to stop crying for some reason.

The man lowered the glass and set it aside with the gentlest caution against drinking too much all at once. His face was blurry now as she looked at him through her tears. He had bent down to below her level and was offering her a handkerchief. She took it and pressed it to her cheeks, it smelled of ihim,/i it smelled so good she wanted to bury her face in it, but she still couldn't quite relax enough to take her eyes off him.

"Please," she said, weakly, having no idea what she was asking him. He offered her more water and waited with endless patience as she sipped at it with his help. He had seemed to sense she had no more energy for words so he didn't say anything when he reached into his pockets and without making any sudden movements he produced two perfect yellow bananas and a bag of jelly babies. It didn't help make this night any less surreal.

She frowned at him, mentally giving him a bollocking for expecting her to trust that he wasn't trying to dope her but even as she railed at him soundlessly her fingers of their own accord fumblingly tried to peel one of the bananas. Frustration took over when she realized she could not manage to open the banana skin. She jumped when the man's hand closed around the end of the fruit in her hand and he peeled back a section for her.

She stared at him, not moving, the banana clutched in her shaking hands. He sighed, then with his eyes locked with hers he slowly reached out and took a small piece of banana putting it in his own mouth. She knew by the expectant look in his eyes that he was hoping to prove to her that he was not trying to drug her. Then he broke off another piece and held it out to her.

They regarded each other in silent standoff as the war between trust and hunger warred inside of her, then after hesitation, hunger won. She rolled her eyes and gave him one more glare for good measure before parting her lips and letting him feed her the banana. As the sweetness of the fruit passed her lips Donna let herself close her eyes for the briefest of moments.

When she opened them again he hadn't moved, he was just watching her with a warm smile and worried eyes.

iI'm fine, dumbo, quit staring,/i she would have told him but her mouth was full of the most delicious banana she had ever tasted and talking just seemed so tiring anyway.

When she finally finished it she looked around the room suspiciously, waiting for her vision to cloud or swim or some other sign she was on the precipice of a drug-induced coma, but if anything she could think more clearly now. Taking stock, she decided pragmatically that so far this sex slave gig involved a bath, a soft bed, food, water, a not unattractive alien slave buyer, and nothing even remotely involving sex. Okay. So maybe she could do this. And this bloke seemed very invested in the pretence of being the Doctor, so if she played along then maybe Imaybe/i this would be survivable after all.

He held out the second banana and she shook her head, she was stuffed, her stomach felt stretched and tight protesting against this sudden nourishment. All she wanted to do was lie down, but he was still crouching in front of her and she couldn't quite bring herself to relax enough to lie back on the bed with him so close.

Neither of them had spoken in a while and it was like a spell had been cast between them, a slow dance of building trust, Ior the illusion of it anyway/I she was quick to remind herself, and the sweetness of his gentle manner was soothing her nerves.

Very carefully he reached out a hand to her and she narrowed her eyes a tiny bit. He retracted his arm and mimed taking her pulse using his own wrist. She considered that for a moment then shook her head no, holding her breath to see how he would react to her refusal. He simply nodded and then stood up, pointing back to the corner of the room. She nodded now too and he stepped backwards away from her slowly until he was back in the corner, sliding down to sit against the wall.

She watched him for a moment more before her exhaustion won out over her mistrust and she curled up on the bed, pulling a blanket up over her shoulders and holding it tightly under her chin. His eyes followed her movements and the room went quiet.

She would close her eyes for just a few minutes, she thought, she wouldn't let herself do more than catnap very lightly, so she would know if he came near, yes, better to be safe she told herself as she drifted off. Before sleep claimed her she thought she heard humming, the barest hint of a melody he sometimes sung to himself when cooking them breakfast or fiddling under the console and didn't know she was watching him. The faint song brought fresh tears to her eyes and she didn't even try to fight them as they soaked her pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

** Am I in heaven here or am I...**

**at the crossroads I am standing**

**So now you're sleeping peaceful**

**I lie awake and pray**

**that you'll be strong tomorrow and we'll**

**see another day and we will praise it**

**and love the light that brings a smile**

**across your face **

** Hold On to Yourself**

**Sarah McLachlan **

His hearts broke with each tear that glimmered in the dim light as it slid down her abused face and a gamut of emotions played through his mind. He had never felt so happy and scared at the same time.

It felt like he had searched lifetimes for her, spending months going from one planet to another, following any lead or hunch no matter how insubstantial. He rejected every informant who scoffed at the idea that she could survive this kind of indentured servitude. The last one had told him, "She'd be dead by now if they took her to Brust, she's only a human, right, this slave you are looking for?"

The Doctor had given him a look, one that had silenced him. "She is human, yes, but no 'only' about it. iYou don't know my Donna."/i

In the back of his mind he could sense her, he was certain of it. In the quiet of the TARDIS he could hear her in his mind calling his name; the possibility that she was dead was not an answer he would accept. His manic desperation finally eased when he heard there was a red headed slave on this planet. With the high security there was only one way to gain access, only one service for purchase that allowed the buyer immediate and exclusive physical access to the slave. With strong use of psychic paper in one hand and coin in the other he was granted passage finally, and his stomach had churned as he had paced their heavily guarded transport ship.

The appalling conditions made his blood boil, starvation and torment evident in every face he passed. Although he desperately needed this to be the end of his search he could not bear the thought of his beloved companion enduring this environment.

When she was brought out on the floor for his inspection he was both devastated and overcome with joy, hoping his eyes were deceiving him, and yet praying that they weren't. A thin sickly hunched woman stood wavering between two large guards. It was only the smoldering fire of her hair that let him accept that he had finally found her.

The relief of finally seeing her did nothing to temper his fury, even though he had to repress the desire for revenge until he had taken her to safety. When asked if he would like to sample the wares before purchasing the look he gave them sent the staff scurrying away from him. He was assured that this slave just needed to be cleaned up and would be willing for his every desire.

And now here she was. He opened his eyes to reassure himself it wasn't just a dream and looked across at her, barely a ripple under the blanket she looked so small and frail in the bed. With a start he realized she was still holding his handkerchief balled up in her palm, as if it was a small tangible piece of hope.

Her hair so long and wavy now was a blaze on the pillow, belying her fragility and in stark contrast to the paleness of her face. Anger swept through him as he saw the trauma evidenced by her body, sleeping fitfully under his watchful gaze. This was his Donna, the fiery woman who could move mountains with her brilliance. She had survived this ordeal against all odds, she was so strong, and now he had her back and vowed to himself he would never lose her again.

He wished she would trust him, that she would let him take care of her, but he knew she was in shock. He could only imagine what he would find if he could examine her more closely. He wanted to scan her with the sonic screwdriver but was afraid it would wake her, and he knew that right now gaining her trust was paramount.

Just from what he could see she was dehydrated, malnourished, drastically underweight and going by the working conditions, heat exhaustion could be added to the growing list. The wounds on her hands and arm were raw and infected, and judging by her glassy eyes and how easily she flushed with fear at his approach earlier, she was running a fever. But her rapid heart rate scared him the most, fluttery tachycardia with a definite murmur. The stress to a human heart under these conditions would probably have ended her life not long from now if he hadn't found her when he did.

Right now he didn't want to think about the impact of the trauma to her mental condition, but he knew it wasn't a good sign that she didn't believe he was real.

Her eyes opened suddenly and fixed on him, then apparently satisfied that he hadn't moved she tucked the blanket under her chin and drifted back to sleep.

The Doctor leaned his head back against the wall, his eyelids heavy, but he couldn't close his eyes again, he was transfixed on the woman on the bed. He felt like if he took his eyes off her she might disappear, she wasn't the only one afraid to accept that the other was real. So long he had been searching for her, every dead end making him even more frantic. He never should have left her alone in such a dangerous place, and he would never make that mistake again.

As the hours passed she tossed and turned even more. Now that the edge was taken off her exhaustion the dreams had obviously begun. His eyebrows knitted together as he watched her, her slumber disturbed by whatever images haunted her. He longed to touch her temples and soothe away her nightmares but he kept still, knowing she was close to trusting him, to believing him, as long as he kept his word not to put his hands on her.

Then she woke up with a scream, a short shrill peal of alarm that caused his hearts to thud painfully in his chest. She was tangled in the blanket and fought her way out of it as she sat up abruptly, panting, her eyes wild.

He twitched in his corner, every fiber of his being longing to run to her side, to hold her close and stroke her hair and whisper that she was safe, that everything would be all right, that it was just a dream, and do all the things to calm and comfort her that he had done for her so many times before he had lost her, things that he suspected made himself feel at least as much better as they did her.

But he held still, albeit trembling from the effort, and called out to her softly, calling her name, telling her she was okay now and hoping that it was the truth. Eventually, at a loss for what to do and his own tears threatening to spill over from the frustration of helplessness, he started to hum again, the low tune vibrating in his chest.

The song had the instant effect of quieting her struggles. She stared at him balefully for a moment before pushing the blanket aside completely, stumbling out of the bed and all but running out of the room. He held his breath, listening desperately to work out what she was doing and readying himself to spring to her side if she caught the attention of guards in the hallway outside by trying to escape.

He heard her in the bathroom and then there was silence until she slowly shuffled back into the room, her hands wrapped around another water pitcher, and without looking at him directly she bit her lip then tossed out, "are you just going to sit in that corner all night then, Romeo, or can we get off this godforsaken hellhole sometime this century?"

He grinned despite all his fears and fretting, she could always have that effect on him, cutting right through the circumstances and just being herself, centering him and making him feel like no matter what, they would be all right.

He rose to his feet, still smiling, but moving smoothly and not taking so much as a step toward her. She was holding the heavy pitcher in front of her like a shield. Or possibly a weapon.

"Do you have a plan then?" She blew out a breath and still avoided his eyes. Was she embarrassed about waking up so violently? She sounded composed but he knew her well enough to catch the tremor in her sigh, and observe the nervous set of her shoulders.

"We can go anytime you are ready, Donna. I just have to give the word to the guards and they will lead us to your boss," he paused when he saw her shiver and he felt dark anger toward the men in charge of this place seethe in his blood. "Then I will pay him their asking price and they will put us on the next shuttle out of here."

She looked at him, her eyes unreadable.

"Donna? Will you… will you come with me willingly?"

"As your sex slave? Do I have a choice?" She was trying to sound indignant he knew, but it wasn't convincing.

"It will make things easier, please, I promise I won't hurt you."

There was a silence then she dropped her head and shrugged. "Guess I'm not going to last much longer here anyway." Then she looked up at him sharply as he finally dared to walk over to her. She swung the pitcher up higher, water sloshing around.

"But I won't share your bed. I'm not up for that, you may as well dump me back in the factory if you think I will go along with … ithat/i. You hear me?"

He nodded quickly. "I wouldn't expect anything like that, I promise, Donna. I just want to get you out of here and back to the TARDIS. If you still want me to let you go after that then I will take you home, if you like."

He trailed off, fear clutching at his chest at the idea of losing her again, but then, he reasoned, he hadn't said he'd leave her there, just that they could go there, not that he would leave her behind. If he had to he would move into her mother's house until he found a way to make her remember him, whatever it took he would get her back.

"Home?" Her voice was quiet now, cutting through his mental ramble with its poignancy. She set the pitcher down clumsily at her feet.

He didn't know how to answer that. The TARDIS was her home, with him.

"Let's go," he stepped closer and held out his hand. She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Please, Donna, I don't want to risk losing you, if you'll just hold my hand out there until we are safe I would feel so much better. You agreed to come with me, yes?"

She frowned and turned away from him, heading to the door and ignoring his proffered hand. He sighed inwardly, not wanting to push her, but terrified of walking her out there without holding on to her.

He came to her side again and they both stood in front of the door.

"You're a ladybird," she blurted out, and crossed her arms over her chest.

He blinked.

"Ladybirds, they are all cute and shiny and people let them crawl on their hands because they don't look like what they are. But really, if you think about it, no matter what color their wings it's just a disguise, they are still creepy crawly things."

She swallowed and looking miserably at the door.

"I'm not a ladybird," he breathed, his hearts breaking a little for her. "This is real, Donna. I am me, I am him. No disguise, no dream. I am the Doctor, and I am going to get you out of here."

She whirled on him and jabbed a finger in his chest. He stood his ground, expecting a slap or a lecture but instead she just rubbed away tears from her cheeks and looked so lost.

"I'm not normally this much of a crybaby," she sniffed.

"I know. It's okay, it's me. You never let anyone but me see you cry."

"I just… I don't know… I imagined you for so long… if this isn't real, I—"

When she didn't say anything more he offered her another handkerchief and waited until she composed herself again.

"I'm ready."

He looked her over one more time, noting how her shoulders were hunching in at the prospect of facing the guards and he slipped out of his jacket. He wanted to place it around her shoulders but stopped just short of so intimate a gesture and simply handed it to her instead. She took it and shrugged it on with a grateful glance at him.

"Wouldn't fit a rat," he whispered, and felt his hearts soar at the spark of recognition in her eyes. Then he leaned forward and knocked on the door, hearing an answering rattle of keys from the other side. As the door began to swing open he felt her reach for his hand without looking at him and he grasped her trembling fingers in his palm, the warmth in his chest spreading all throughout his body.

* * *

**Close your eyes and trust it**

**Just trust it…**

**Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don't care?**

**It's only half past the point of no return**

**The tip of the iceberg**

**The sun before the burn**

**The thunder before lightning**

**And the breath before the phrase, "Have you ever felt this way?"**

** Glitter in the Air**

**Pink **

The feeling of his hand closing around hers was at once comforting and terrifying. Even though she had been the one to initiate the contact she still felt herself tense up and had to resist the urge to pull away from him, letting any man touch her was foreign territory these days; contact from the guards was only ever punitive or a prelude to groping. She shivered.

He turned to her as the door creaked open and murmured comfortingly in her ear. "Don't look at them, you will be okay, I'm going to get you out of here."

Donna took his advice and averted her eyes from the guards as he exchanged words with them. Instead she stared at his long fingers, studying the light cluster of freckles on the back of his hand, so familiar. They stepped into the narrow hallway and she bumped into him a little when the guards circled around them. The contact with him combined with the hand-holding reminded her of times long ago, times too painful to let herself remember in any detail.

Then they were being led down the hallway, the guards moving sluggishly, and she remembered what he had said about them leaving in the early morning hours while people were mostly asleep. Two of the guards came alongside her and she felt herself tugged closer to the man holding her hand. He hissed at the goons, causing them to back off again with a grunt. She could only imagine what they were thinking, and when one of them said something in a leering tone she could feel the man she was with as he bristled and she knew she wouldn't want the translation.

She leaned into him a little bit when they all crowded around her in the elevator and his thumb smoothed reassuringly over the back of her hand. She closed her eyes as the violent swinging motioning of the lift threatened her equilibrium and shrugged deeper into the jacket as if it could shield her from the men's eyes, letting its achingly familiar scent wash over her. Was it her mind supplying these details that made this man seem like someone she knew painfully well?

By the time the nausea-inducing swaying of the elevator finally came to a halt her legs felt like jelly again and she gripped his hand tighter, a feeling of safety coming over her when he squeezed her hand in return. Again, the frightening familiarity rocked her certainty that this was a trick, but then, if the point of her hallucinating was to make her feel okay with what was happening to her, Donna supposed it made sense that her mind was dredging up all these long-forgotten feelings, like his hand on hers, warm and strong and not letting go while they were walking through dangerous places.

Unsteady now, she stumbled as they exited the elevator and his other arm came around her elbow in support until he had completely encircled her and she finally looked up at him.

"Are your legs feeling weak, Donna?"

She swallowed and nodded.

"I'm going to help you walk, okay?" As he spoke he let go of her hand to slide his arm around her waist instead and she gulped at the intimacy of the contact.

"I'm sorry," he soothed, but didn't let her go, and in truth she was glad of the support. He helped her along another grey corridor to a stern looking office door. It opened before they could knock and one of the gangbosses looked down at her as she stood, huddled in a man's brown jacket and barely able to stand on her own.

She held the man's gaze defiantly until his eyes flicked to the owner of the jacket, still holding her to him possessively. Then they were ushered inside.

Finding her feet at last as the men started bartering back and forth (at least that was what it sounded like) Donna wobbled away from them all, ignoring the sharp look from the tall man, until she stood at the huge glass window that overlooked the factory floor. It was empty now but she could nonetheless see her fellow workers as the boss must see them, ghosts bent over the shelling tables, the nut crackers, the juicing machines.

She vowed to herself and them that if she really did somehow miraculously get out of here she would find a way to end this, to end their suffering and make the slave traders pay for their ruthless exploitation.

When she closed her eyes she could hear the rat-a-tat of the machinery, the sighs of the women, the barking of the guards, she could taste the sweat running into her mouth, could smell the acrid burning juices of the fruits, could feel her skin tingle and burn.

Her eyes snapped open and she gave herself a little shake. The man who had stood here last night at dusk and watched her, had selected her when guards had pulled her forward for his inspection, was now at her side and taking her shaking hand gently between his own. She could see the concern in his deep eyes as he looked down at her.

"It's done, Donna. There's a carrier about to leave, they will grant us passage back to that moon I told you about."

"Done? You paid them?"

"Everything they wanted. They are satisfied."

Holding onto his hands for balance she looked past him at the boss, now seated behind a bulging desk, looking smug. He gawked at her insolently.

"You shouldn't have paid them too much you know, I wouldn't have lasted more than a week tops out there, so whatever you gave them, you got ripped off."

"Donna," he began, but she pulled away from him and stalked up to the gangboss, falling on her hands on the desktop before her knees could give out of their own accord and ruin her dramatic gesture.

"Hey! Jackass! Get your pound of flesh did you?" She rattled his desk and some papers slid to the floor but no one so much as moved to catch them or censure her.

The slave trader merely smirked languidly. Something wasn't right about this transaction, she thought suddenly, unease turning over in the pit of her stomach.

Gentle hands settled on her shoulders and warm lips brushed her ear as she felt the man who had just bought her try to hush her. She froze for a moment and he pulled back a little, drawing her back with him carefully. She let herself be pulled away, issuing further angry exhortations at the unperturbed monster at the desk, while the man holding her moved around her protectively in anticipation of any retaliation even as he held her up.

She let him lead her from the room, throwing a final kick at the desk as she passed, knowing her muscles were too weak to resist anyway.

"You shouldn't have paid him. I'm next to useless to you anyway."

"You don't make rescuing you easy, do you, Earthgirl?" His eyes twinkled at her even through the tension in his frame. "Just let me get you out of here, okay?"

She grumbled a little but succumbed to his leading as he wrapped a strong arm around her body again and bore her out into the hallway. This time the guards parted to let them pass, their conversation trailing off as Donna neared, and their beady eyes tracking her every move. Her feet faltered a little and she caught herself leaning into the tall human-looking man more and more until they reached the elevator.

Once they were some distance away she could hear the guards' laughter following them, their jarring speech seeming to echo in the small space as the elevator doors closed, cutting off the sounds. Donna frowned at some of the words they were using. She couldn't translate directly but feelings of fear stirred in the back of her brain as she tried to figure out which phrases were familiar.

Now they were alone in the elevator and she pushed away from the man before she could become any more comfortable in his arms, and crouched in the corner as they were swept upwards then sideways at great speed. She groaned with the inertia but waved him away when he knelt beside her, asking her if she was all right.

This was the man who now thought he owned her, she reminded herself. Yes, so far he had treated her well, and been incredibly gentle with her, but she had seen enough cop shows growing up to know what was happening here. What did they call it, Sweden something? No, Stockholm, Stockholm syndrome, that was it, when a captive starts falling for their kidnapper.

Or maybe that wasn't right, where had that come from anyway?

Donna frowned at herself. iNo way I am falling for this bloke with his sad eyes and his floppy hair and his big careful hands. No,/i she mused, i it must just be sympathizing with the kidnapper, cause your mind gets all confused, yes that sounded more like it./I

She glanced over at him then away again. IAnd he was a bit of a sad case this one,/i she decided resolutely, trying desperately to tell herself he was to be pitied so that she could stop being quite so afraid of what he was taking her to do with her.

She shook herself a little, refusing to give into those kind of thoughts, she would deal with whatever he wanted to do with her when it happened. No matter what kind of charade he was playing getting her addled brain to believe he was some fantasy man she had created to survive this hellhole, the truth was he was just another slave trader, a man who paid money to other men to take a woman and do with her what he will.

She put her hands over her ears and scrunched down further against the wall, shaking her head against the thoughts of him touching her, and at the same time having trouble believing he would ever hurt her. That chilled her to the bone, that she would be taken by surprise, drawn in by his familiar face and gentle manner. Why was she starting to think of him as her Doctor? It was stupid, she couldn't afford to let her guard down.

She peeked up at him as the lift slowed down and he tentatively extended a hand to help her up. She looked at his hand. Was he going to spirit her off to a ship where no one would help her, no one would hear when he made her scream? Really? When he had kept his word and only touched her with her permission since promising to keep his hands to himself? And even then, his hands had only been on her body to help and protect her.

She reached up and let him pull her to her feet. The elevator doors swished open and murky purplish sunlight illuminated the shadows, followed by dust and the sound of an energetic breeze.

"Come on," he encouraged her gently but she found her feet wouldn't move. She trembled and frowned at her uncooperative legs.

"Donna?"

"Wh- where are you taking me?" she blurted out.

He didn't answer for a moment and she looked up at him, seeing the tension standing out as cords in his neck, and the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"Away from here. Away from anyone who can hurt you. After that, it's up to you."

"And you're not… you won't…"

His eyes and tone softened and he knelt down to her eye level. "I won't hurt you."

She regarded him for a moment, relieved when her legs finally started responding.

As a slave she was not allowed shoes, and when they stepped together out of the lift the dry cracked earth crunched beneath her aching feet. Then as they moved out of the alcove of the elevator exit blinding violet streaming rays from more than one sun assaulted her eyes before they could adapt. She cried out and spun to bury her face in his chest before she could stop herself.

"Its alright," he crooned into her hair, delicately encircling her with his arms, loosely enough that she felt safe but not trapped. "The dawn here is blinding I know, but it is just a few hundred feet to the transport. I could carry you?"

She shook her head but didn't move, too lost in his closeness and the smell of him that railed against her common sense, screaming to her that this was ihim/i this was the Doctor, her Doctor. When she finally pulled away she was surprised to find she was panting and light-headed.

"The air is thin too, for a human." He sounded apologetic. The strong wind ruffled his hair into whorls and almost stole his words from his mouth.

Donna drew a deep breath as she straightened, still squinting. "I can manage."

She took a few uncertain steps with him, wincing at the small sharp pebbles that dug into her feet. Even the ground here felt like it had been exploited until it was scorched dry.

"Oh! Oh!" He threw a hand into the air and straightened up. "Wait… I have your shoes."

He started digging around in his pockets and she stared at him, incredulous.

"Slaves… can't wear shoes…" she stammered, her eyes widening when, impossibly, he pulled out a pair of converse from his trouser pocket. She looked at them and her chest felt tight suddenly.

"You aren't a slave," he said conversationally, casually even, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Donna's heart thudded in her ears she reached out her hand as if on autopilot, her vision narrowing dizzyingly until there was nothing existing but the purple shoe in her hand. Dimly she felt him drop to his knees and start to slide the other shoe onto her foot. It fitted perfectly. Of course.

She just stood there, staring at it. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

Finally, as if in slow motion, she turned the shoe she was holding over in her hand. It was scuffed, and on the sole was the sap from a Hager vole plant that she had stepped on one day on their way to a picnic by a magnificent waterfall. It formed a blotch of neon yellow that had persisted despite all her scrubbing, despite all the running she had done in these shoes since then.

Feeling on the edge of something, she didn't know what: sanity or reason or even hope, Donna fingered the laces. One end was singed badly from slime that had nearly dissolved her, had the Doctor not swooped down in the nick of time and pulled her to safety out of the maugan pit.

These were her shoes. In his pocket. Pockets with relative dimensions in time and space.

Swallowing hard Donna suddenly sat down, fell down, really. The man looked up from tying her laces, surprise and worry on his face. IHis/I face. iThe Doctor's/i face.

"Are you okay? Did you lose your footing? Donna?"

She tried to speak but her breath hitched in her throat and her voice only croaked in reply.

He crouched down beside her and held out his hand to her hesitantly. She focused on his outstretched fingers, his open palm, like he was offering peace to frightened animal.

"It's okay," she tried to say, but her words were lost in the wind that was whippng around them.

"Donna?"

"It's you," she whispered, knowing he wasn't able to hear her.

He leaned forward slowly, moving his body to act as a windbreak for her, and brushed stray hairs from her eyes very gently.

That did it. Tears overspilled and ran down her face, unbidden.

"Donna?" His eyes went very wide and his voice sounded panicky. "Please, tell me what's wrong, are you hurting? Is it me? Did I scare you?"

She gazed into his eyes, relief and hope and exhaustion crashing down on her all at once.

She grabbed for his hand even as he retracted it, ignoring the edges of her vision as they greyed in and out, trying to remind herself to breathe, to take it slow. She held onto his fingers for dear life while she clumsily dumped the shoe she was holding upside down, and just as she knew would happen, tiny grains of pink sand emptied into his palm.

Sand from a beach with seven suns.

Her trembling became uncontrolled shudders as she felt her heart gallop, felt her vice grip on disillusionment start to weaken, felt her guard slip and oblivion beckon her down. She felt like she was sliding off a precipice and nothing could stop her falling, it was too late.

She had forgotten so much but now, seeing the tiny grains of physical evidence, that day came flooding back to her with sharp flashes of clarity, from seven sunrises to seven sunsets.

She remembered the taste of orange and lemon triangles of shaved ice, melting down his fingers as he fed her, his eyes on hers, sparking with fun yet also so very dark and intense.

She remembered the look in his eyes when they walked down to the shore hand in hand. They found a place to drop their stuff, she had shyly dropped her wrap on her beach towel and he had seen her in her bikini for the first time, right before embarrassment overtook her and she had turned and ran into the surf, and he had chased her until they crashed into the waves together, laughing like children.

She remembered how he had teased her about nonexistent sea monsters and even though she knew it was a ploy to get her into his arms once they were out in deep water, she hadn't exactly minded too much, because this was the Doctor.

This was the Doctor.

The man with her shoes in his pocket. Her friend. Her best mate.

Her so much more.


	4. Chapter 4

_Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?__  
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?__  
It's only half past the point of oblivion__  
The hourglass on the table__  
The walk before the run__  
The breath before the kiss__  
And the fear before the flames__**Glitter in the Air  
Pink**_

"Donna, what is it, what's wrong? Talk to me, please?"

The Doctor sounded almost frantic now. Donna felt his hand ghost over the pulse on her neck and through her blurry vision she saw his eyes tracking her every movement, his face taut with tension. She dropped the shoe and placed her hand in his, squeezing it warmly, feeling the sand grains move between their palms.

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling his hand holding hers, allowing herself to accept the familiarity of the touch. Relief and hope were still washing over her, and she knew she could trust him now, that he was really who he said he was.

Her mind was still spinning and the dust and wind whirled around them urgently, mirroring her state of mind; it was too much to come to terms with. She reached up a shaking hand and slowly brought his head closer to her mouth so he would hear her voice without the wind stealing her words.

"Slaves aren't allowed shoes, these took me by surprise, that's all. I'm all right now, let's get out of here."

She released him and he drew back, regarding her questioningly for a moment before he resumed putting her other shoe on, lacing it up as she watched him. She was smiling faintly, but the wind blew cold on her tear-stained cheeks and she was trembling more than ever as she vacillated between falling into his arms and holding herself back.

On some instinctual level she knew she wasn't yet ready to admit to him what she herself had only begun to accept. After so long of being wary around men she couldn't suddenly flip a switch and let her guard down entirely, no matter how much certainty had filled her at the sight of her shoes and the shimmering sand grains in his palm.

So she just clung to his arm wordlessly and with his help she made it to the carrier without incident, only the hollow wind gusts seeing them off. The transport was little more than a large cargo bay, filled with benches and peopled with men, jostling them as they entered the cargo hold. The uniforms were slightly different than those of the guards, more like soldiers.

Donna turned into the Doctor's chest with less reserve now and his arms wrapped around her strongly even as he glared at the men around them until they cleared a path. The tarnished metal of the ship was noticeably different from the dusty planet they were leaving. Even with the abrasive laughter of the soldiers echoing against the metal walls she felt the mental shackles of fear loosen and she allowed herself to believe now that this was not a dream, that she was finally getting free from this nightmare.

Settling her into a far corner the Doctor placed himself between her and the other passengers, then produced a small flask of water, from his other pocket this time. She accepted it gratefully, the cool water washing away the taste of the dusty planet from her mouth.

The walk to the ship had made her feel lightheaded and nauseous, she moved closer to the Doctor, reveling in his warmth. He dipped his head to see her face and raised his eyebrows, pocketing the flask that she handed back to him. Then he held his arms out to her.

After hesitating for only a second, Donna sunk herself into his embrace, closing her eyes as the smooth silk of his tie brushed against her face and the steady rhythm of his hearts beat against her cheek, the long forgotten feeling of safety coming over her. She felt his arms hold her tighter and he shifted her body closer to his, his breath moving her hair as he whispered comfortingly in her ear.

"Try to sleep some more, nothing will happen to you now, I will make sure of it."

She curled up tighter, and kept her eyes closed trying to follow his suggestion, her mind spinning. But sleep would not come, she couldn't ignore that nagging sense of doubt in the back of her mind that something still wasn't right here.

"Did that seem right to you? The way they just let me go?" she finally asked him, unfurling just enough to look up into his eyes.

He looked at her for a long moment and his brow tightened. "Is it hard to accept that you are free now?" His voice was sympathetic, but with an undertone of tension that suggested he was more aware of the enduring danger than he was letting on.

She chose not to answer his question, she wouldn't know where to begin. Instead she pursed her lips and got out a question of her own to deflect him. "What did you pay them anyway?"

He tilted his head. "They have never let a slave be bought out before on Bruwst, it had to be something very valuable to them."

She made a derisive noise that would have been a snort, but the air on the carrier wasn't much more oxygenated than the planet's surface and so she was still having trouble fully catching her breath.

"It wasn't worth it, whatever you gave them, I'm on my last legs me." She shrugged off the emptiness she could hear in her own voice and plucked at her thin smock, looking down.

He moved his hand to palm her cheek and lift her gaze back up. His eyes were intense as he answered her. "I would have paid him anything, Donna, I would have given him the crown jewels of every reigning monarch in the history of time. You are worth more than anything."

She swallowed, finding it hard to see herself through his eyes, to see herself as having any value to anyone beyond how many tart fruits she could shell in a day, and how fast she could keep the production line moving. So she fidgeted a little, breaking from his gaze and looking down at her work-worn hands — a testament to the long hours she had endured in order to stay alive — and changed the subject again, still trying to put her finger on whatever it was that seemed strange about the deal.

"They got us on a carrier awfully fast."

"Possibly they didn't want me to change my mind about paying them such a high price, plus I won't release the coordinates of the payment until we set foot on the neutral territory of the moon, so they are keeping things moving quickly." He was smiling now, obviously trying to keep his tone light.

"Nothing to worry about!" he added cheerfully. She knew he was not telling her everything as she watched his eyes shift over the soldiers.

Her eyes scanned the room again and she shifted closer to him. His arm moved further around her shoulders, giving her a sense of feeling protected, and his fingers brushed her cheek. The gesture felt more than protective though, it felt possessive.

"Donna?"

She studied his face, trying to read his emotions, wondering how she could ever have doubted it was him. When she didn't acknowledge him, he tried again and she guessed from the tentative tone of his voice that he wanted to talk about something that would make her uncomfortable.

"Donna…" He licked his lips. "You seem more relaxed with me now. Are you… do you know that it is me?"

She turned to him, her eyes going wide, fear coursing through her veins and almost drowning out his words, her heartbeat loud in her ears. He had broached the subject she herself was doing mental cartwheels to avoid.

She knew it was him, and yet allowing herself to accept that this was really the Doctor was somehow even more terrifying than the idea that he was just some slave trader duping her into trusting him. Slave traders she understood, bad men made sense, and for as long as she was telling him she was just going along with his "ruse" of being the Doctor, well then, she was just doing the best she could to keep herself safe, just making the best of a bad situation, the logical thing to do.

But this sweet, kind, protective man, with his broken eyes and soft touches, if he was really who she knew him to be in her heart… well, she couldn't let herself admit it out loud because if it somehow turned out that he wasn't real then she knew that would be the last straw for her sanity. She had to protect that dream that she had been clutching to herself all those long nights.

He must have picked up on her turmoil because he brought his hands up to cradle her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones, whispering softly.

"Hey. It's alright, Donna. Please, just trust me, right now I just want to get you back to the safety of the TARDIS, everything else we can sort out later."

Tears filled her eyes again at his gentleness and she buried her face in his chest, hoping that would be enough of an answer for the time being, and it seemed to satisfy him as he drew her close and rocked her in his arms.

She stayed that way for while, trying to process the physical affection that was still so startling in its tenderness. She had not known peace like this since she had been separated from him, and the way he was holding her, the soft sounds he uttered that made no sense and made perfect sense, it was all so familiar, like a long forgotten dream. Or perhaps it was simply that she hadn't known this feeling outside of her dreams in so long, and even then in whatever life she had before… the details were still foggy.

But after awhile it was overwhelming, she couldn't tell where she ended and he began, so she pulled away and huddled into the corner. His eyes followed her but he made no move to stop her retreat from him.

"Okay?" he asked quietly.

She bit her lip and tilted her head. "Can you tell me a story?"

He looked surprised at that, so she went on, "I need to know about you if I am to be with you."

She felt like she was drowning, fighting to reach him, struggling to stay afloat in a world where he was real and yet everything felt so dreamlike.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his disappointment palpable, and his hand came to wrap around the back of his neck as he dropped his head down.

"You still think I'm still a slave trader," he said, his tones clipped, his efforts to control his emotions evident. "I wouldn't… I won't force you to stay with me against your will."

She waited until he looked at her again, then very slowly she shook her head, denying his last words. Seeing the pain her words had caused him, Donna could barely breathe, but found herself nonetheless incapable of telling him what he wanted to hear. She needed breathing space while her mind tried to come to terms with him, she wasn't ready for the shock of closeness and complete trust he would then expect from her if she admitted she knew who he was.

"Please, Doctor," she whispered, using his name aloud for the first time since he had shown up in her life again.

He looked at her sharply and she reached for his hand.

"I'm so tired but when I close my eyes all I can hear is their voices, hammering on at me like the machines, stilted, angry, yammering on and on. I just want to hear your voice instead, then maybe I can sleep." She rubbed her eyes.

His eyes softened and his hand covered hers as he began to speak.

"I have a best friend. We shared many adventures together, we helped a lot of people. Some of them heard that I lost her, and they helped me to find her again. Do you remember the first time you met the Ood?"

She smiled brokenly as she felt herself tear up again, and nodded slightly, leaning back against the wall and drawing her knees up to her chest. She kept a firm grip on his hand as she closed her eyes and relived all the tiny details, getting lost in a past that she had stopped thinking of as real.

She was surprised at how well he recalled even the smallest thing, from his chagrin at her comparing the TARDIS to a Ferrari, to his fear for her safety high up on railings as he placed her body behind his, and how scared he had been that the danger would be too much, and that she might ask him to take her home again.

He paused finally and asked her if she remembered. She looked at him, and all at once the hollowness in his eyes overwhelmed even her own fears for her sanity. She could see how much it hurt him that she did not know him, that she could not accept that he was real.

"Do you remember, Donna? Can you trust that this is me?"

Tears were shining in both their eyes when she nodded.

He made a small choking noise and unable to bear seeing him like this any longer, Donna finally gave in to the hope that this was real. There was no doubt left in her mind and she fell into his arms as her last defenses crumbled. They clung to each other as he cried out her name into her hair, over and over, and she sobbed his name in return.

After a while of just holding each other, Donna sneaked another look up at him, noticing for the first time the exhaustion in his features. The fine lines around his eyes were deeper and even his hair seemed to have lost its usual vigor for standing on end. He smiled warmly at her, his shining eyes closing as he allowed his head to fall back against the curved metal wall of the carrier. She could feel the tension leave his body despite how securely his arms were wrapped around her.

Donna dragged her eyes away from his face and swept her gaze around the room again, watching as the soldiers talked amongst themselves. Even with all of their banter their eyes never left where she and the Doctor were seated. Something didn't feel right, and the more the man holding her allowed himself to relax, the stronger the feeling of foreboding inside her grew.

She took in the hostile sneers of the men as they stared back at her, unabashed contempt in their eyes, and something else too, some kind of anticipation that made her stomach roil. They were congregating in a loose semi circle around the place where she and the Doctor were sitting. She had seen the natives of this planet both at rest and on alert: these men did not look restful in the slightest.

This was the first time a slave had been bought out of servitude on this planet the Doctor had told her was called Bruwst, and yet these men didn't look like any sort of concession had been made at all. Were they just laughing at the price the Doctor had paid, smug in the feeling of having ripped him off? Was she just panicky and over-reacting?

No, neither explanation felt right. In all her time planetside Donna had learned to read these kind of men like a book, and while she trusted none of them, she had learned to trust her own instincts implicitly. Her life had sometimes depended on not pissing off the wrong guard at the wrong time, or attracting the wrong sort of attention.

That was it, she realized, these men had sickeningly predatory looks in their eyes, as if there was a battle still left to win, and spoils for the taking.

She sat up slowly, her movements faltering as the fear in her bones sent tremors down her spine. She felt strong and sure hands travel up her arms to cradle her shoulders and she tore her gaze from the malevolent stares of their fellow travelers to look instead into the warm brown gaze of the man she belonged to. _No, wait,_ she caught herself, _belonged __**with**_.

"Alright?" His hand was on her back trying to gain her attention, and she could feel him tensing up.

"Donna?"

His thumbs brushed soothingly over her collarbone and he pulled her so close to his body it felt proprietary, which was both confusing and wonderful. As well as being the Doctor she was so well acquainted with, there was an intimacy to his embrace now that he wasn't holding back, and it took her breath away.  
She let him hold her close and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to find a way to articulate her fears so he would take her seriously as his equal again, so that he would know she was looking out for them both just as he was.

She lifted her mouth to his ear and with a shaking hand drew his head down to hers.

"These men… something is wrong here, the way they are looking at me…"

He brushed her hair back from her forehead and took her face gently in his hands.

"It's alright, Donna, no one will touch you now, I owe them coordinates to an ore that is so valuable they wouldn't be able to mine that themselves with a thousand slaves in a thousand years."

"Then they would have given you anything to get it," her whisper was more urgent now, "I know this lot, they would have promised you anything. But Doctor, you said they have never sold a slave before, that it was like a pride thing for them. And I keep thinking, trying to understand what I heard in their voices, and now I realize — it isn't what I heard, it was what was not there: nobody was giving anything away, no loss of face, they're having us on."

His eyes searched hers and he opened his mouth again but before she could hear his soft reassurances she cut him off, her hands fisting in his shirt.

"I have seen them work a person to death but I have never seen let someone go alive. They still think I am theirs, Doctor. I have spent months learning to read the way they are looking at me, I've had to learn to gauge them to avoid their… attentions. You have to trust me, there is no way they are going to let us leave that moon alive."


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor felt cold fear crawl up his spine. He gasped and gathered Donna up in his arms, his eyes roaming the inside of the carrier, knowing from the sinking feeling in his chest that she was right: they were still very much in danger. And for all of his sweeping in to rescue her, it was her ability to read people that had just saved them both.

He watched the soldiers talking amongst themselves, their eyes occasionally sliding to the woman he clutched to him. How could he have been so blind? It had taken several false starts and a kingdom of bribes just to get on the planet, and he had been surprised at how much easier things had gone once he arrived. They had catered to his every 'whim', including the critical one: bringing him the "pleasure slave" he desired.

He might have been on higher alert if he had been able to think about anything else but Donna once he finally laid eyes on her. His own arrogance had taken over, he supposed, thinking they were doing his bidding. Stupid stupid stupid. He would have smacked his forehead but nothing and no one could make him loosen his hold on the woman in his arms.

He settled for a small sniff instead. Not wanting to set off their suspicions he carefully schooled his face back to a calm demeanor. Then he took a breath and looked to Donna, who for all of her talk and bluster she was just barely coherent. Looking around the carrier again he knew the time had come for the last resort. He just wasn't sure she would survive what he would have to put her through.

"Donna, do you feel strong enough to travel?" He tried to keep his tone light but the way her eyes locked on to his face he knew it had not come out that way.

She pulled back and looked at him with disbelief and frustration. He felt warmth fill his hearts as he recognized such trademark Donna scorn, and it helped offset his fear at how pale she looked. Even though she couldn't hold on to the idea of him all this time in captivity, she had never let go of Iherself./I She was so strong it never ceased to amaze him.

"I don't know if you noticed, Doctor, but we are already traveling. Unless you have the TARDIS hidden in those magic pockets I think we are going to have to figure out how to survive this ride."

He could hear the mounting panic underneath her incredulous tone and he tried to hush her gently. Not taking his eyes off of the soldiers in the carrier, his fingers slid down her wrist to her pulse, counting each heartbeat, still erratic and dangerously fast.

"I can't go back again." Her face crumpled from indignant to frightened without any warning and a single tear fell from the corner of her eye.

"Oh Donna. Don't worry, I will get us out of here, I just need to make sure you are strong enough to travel… I won't lose you again. Never again."

The Doctor cradled her to him again and crooned softly in her ear, and even though it broke his hearts to see the woman he loved so unusually openly fragile, gladness overwhelmed him at finally being able to give her the comfort she needed – and that he needed to give her.

Rocking her gently he felt her tears dampen his shirt. He was the only man she ever allowed to see her cry, even from the first day they had met, although her efforts to hide her tears from him then had just tugged at his heartstrings all the more.

From the second he had laid eyes on her on that grimy factory floor it had taken all of his willpower to remain calm and not go running to her right then, all he wanted to do was take her into his arms and never let go. To have her pull away from him instead, in fear and disgust, her eyes accusing him of taking her to use her body for his own ends…it made his gut twist. And if he was honest with himself, her rejection of him had sent his mind into a tailspin ever since. Nothing was right with the universe if she didn't know him, without her trust in him he hadn't been able to think straight until he got it back.

It was one of the accusations he resented most no matter where he encountered it, that he was abducting human women for his own pleasure. His mind traveled back again to the first day they had met, Donna brought on board the TARDIS against her will, frightened and shouty. Her eyes had held a glimmer of terror that was painfully clear to him no matter how much she tried to hide it behind brave bluster or otherwise deny it to herself. And just as he had on that first day, he had been desperate to take away her fear of him.

He knew that was simply her way of coping, of trying to have control over a situation that would have sent most girls cowering in a corner screaming if he had tried to examine them. When he had come at her with his instruments, trying to solve the mystery of how this bride had shown up in the console room, Donna had just given him a resounding slap instead, which had brought him up short and helped him realize how much she was scared after all. After that he had kept a respectful distance and shoved his hands in his pockets when he neared her.

He ihated/i the thought of any woman being afraid that he would hurt her, and for Donna to feel that way about him, after everything they had been through together, everything they had become, it was too much to bear. They had grown so close, it felt like not being able to trust himself.

He held her even closer, running his hands over her and feeling very grateful that she would let him, because right now the urge to protect her, to possess her body again like it was his own, was spiraling out of his control. She was his, he was hers, that was just how it Iwas/i.

It had not occurred to him to take into account how relatively brief a time they had been together on a more intimate level before she had been taken, because the emotion and closeness had been building between them so strongly for so long before that. But when he forced himself to remember how short that time had been it made heartbreaking sense that she had not incorporated him into the parts of herself she clung to during the hell she had been through. How like her to doubt the reality that someone loved her, loved her completely and without reserve, and to trust that he would find her, no matter what.

The Doctor murmured nonsense sounds of comfort, hoping desperately that he wasn't scaring her as he nonetheless was unable to stop himself from dropping reflexive kisses into her hair. He tried to reassure himself that she would stop him if he was making her uncomfortable; even last night, after everything she had been through, she was still threatening to 'kick his skinny ass out the door'. He smiled inwardly at the memory, steeling himself that if she had survived this far she could survive one final journey to get them home, safe, sound and together.

When she was breathing evenly again he worked his arm between them, using her body to shield them from prying eyes, and hoisted his foot up on the bench, sliding his trouser leg up just enough to show a bulky contraption strapped to his ankle.

"This will get us out of here, Donna, but it is a rough way to travel. I need you to be able to stand and hold on to me very tightly."

She met his worried gaze with a questioning look and a dubious sniff.

"It's a vortex manipulator," he continued. "Well, same idea anyway. It's of my own design, bit simpler, well, more circuitous microcircuitry, but not really any vortex arc feedback—"

She cut off his rambling explanation. "You said those things are too dangerous."

"Welllll, it is more limited than an actual vortex manipulator, so a bit safer although still a bumpy ride, ahum." He paused for a nervous grin as he tried to reassure her, or maybe it was himself he was hoping to convince. "More of a homing device really, but it should do the trick and get us back to the TARDIS, tout suite I might add. I… I was worried they would not let me on the planet to get you, this was my backup plan."

He felt her shiver in his embrace, and she turned slightly, still leaning into him, her eyes looking over the carrier like a caged animal. With a sigh, she locked eyes with him again and nodded.

"Whatever we need to do to get off this death trap, then. This wasn't your plan B, though, was it? If you had this all along then why even bother with the slave trading business?"

"Yes. Wellllll…." He scratched his head.

Her mouth set, and her determination to sniff out the truth behind his words filled his heart with pride. He exhaled in a rush.

"Traveling this way is very hard on a body and you have to be able to hold on very tightly, or at least let me hold our bodies together, and since you didn't want me to touch you..."

"Oh." She looked down for a moment, worrying at her lip again. "Well, why didn't you grab me and get us out of there?"

"You were… you thought I was there to… I..."

He cupped her cheek and she met his eyes again. He gave her a look that he hoped communicated how much it would have cost him to have to do something like that to her when he had already frightened her so badly.

He sniffed disconsolately and busied himself with unrolling his trouser leg then setting his foot back on the ground.

"There's more to it, anyway, Donna. We can't risk this much of a shock to your system with your heart already under too much strain. We need to get it slowed down before we can leave."

She licked dry lips. "I'm not sure I can do anything about that," she admitted.

He paused for a moment and softly stroked her hair. "I can help, but I need access your mind."

He spoke tenderly, sympathetically, but was not surprised when she started to tremble again. He slowly rubbed her forearms trying to avoid her cuts and bruises.

"Donna, landfall is almost here, we will have to make our move soon."

Donna leaned into him and turned around in his lap a little, her hands on his chest anchoring her to him. They both watched as the soldiers on the transport milled around, looking more and more impatient as time wore on.

Something in her expression shifted, seeming to give way and he studied her face, more worried than ever about her state of mind. Then she closed her eyes.

"I can hear their voices like they are disconnected from their bodies."

The note of panic in her words frightened him all the more. He put his hand over her wrist and felt her heart race dangerously fast, so without ceremony he pulled her into his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her eyes flew open and went wide. His hearts sank as she tensed and tried to pull away.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, but I need to get the best hold on you that I can."

His words seemed to reach her, as with visible effort she stopped struggling and watched him uncertainly. The Doctor reached deep into his pockets for the length of twine he had made sure to bring with him.

"Every time I open my eyes, it's like they are moving closer. Are they coming closer? Doctor?" Her voice wobbled and she gripped his shirt with all her might.

He wrapped the rope around them threading it through their clothes and looping it around even arms and legs, wrists and ankles, sensing all the while that his actions were attracting the soldiers' attention.

One of them, the closest one, leered at them, and called out to Donna provocatively. "If he's giving you a hard time, whore, we'll be more than happy to make things more fun for y—"

The Doctor replied swiftly, viciousness in his tone. "Close your mouth, soldier. I will remind you that you are in violation of your military law by taking the liberty of speaking with my property. I will not tolerate incursions into my territory. You open your mouth again and I will be in my full rights as the deed holder to come over there and cut out your throat."

The consequence he posed was dire enough that all the soldiers quickly averted their eyes, and the offending soldier skulked off far across the room. That his threats had worked so well indicated to the Doctor that they were probably safe until docking, and if he was guessing correctly, the soldiers would then move in and take Donna from him until he gave over the coordinates of the ore. He doubted that she would live much longer after that happened, neither of them would.

Once satisfied that he had stalled their advances, for now at least, he brought his eyes to the woman who would give him a piece of her mind if she had been able to understand his words that referred to her as something he had purchased. She was watching the men still, her shaking hands pressing against his body for unconscious stability. He dropped his voice.

"Please, just trust me, Donna."

Her blue eyes searched his and he could see her control slipping, could see the fear starting to take over. But she also put up no objections to his hands running over her body as he used the cord to connect them as thoroughly as he could. She kept looking up at him, only flinching once when he wrapped the rope around her torso.

"I don't even want to know what you are doing, do I?" she asked ruefully and he could see it in her eyes as she struggled to keep still for him as he threaded the rope under her arms one final time then began to tighten the cord, bringing their bodies together.

"I'll hold you as close as I can, Donna, but I am not going to risk losing you. This way even if we both let go we'll still make it through together."

She turned wide eyes to him again and something caught in his throat to see her so scared and yet so determined. He had missed her so much he could barely breathe at his happiness at having in her in his arms again, where she belonged.

Whatever she remembered of what had been happening between them before she was taken from him, or didn't remember, for now he just wanted, needed, to keep her close and never let her out of his sight again. There was nothing that had been taken from them that they couldn't rebuild. He hoped.

She nodded briskly suddenly. "Do it, then."

"Close your eyes, okay? I'm not going to do anything invasive, just think about your breathing, listen to my words, you are safe with me, I won't hurt you. I am the Doctor, I am going to get you out of here, and we are going to get back to the TARDIS, together."

She nodded again. His voice had become deep and hypnotic, his hands slowly moving up to her face until he was gently holding her head. She winced and stifled a whimper when his mind found hers.

"Just relax, you are safe, I am here," he soothed.

He brushed against her consciousness, very softly, letting her acclimatize to the sensations.

But for the Doctor the shock of being one with her in this way almost caused him to reel back. When he had first opened her mind to hear the Ood song there was a symphony of colors, the brilliance that she hid from the world was startlingly open inside her mind, evocative of so many dancing lights, red and blue and gold. He remembered it with clarity, and every time since then that she allowed him inside her beauty had stunned him, and he loved simply drifting in her essence.

Now he found her mind was a desert of drab and dark colors. The last year had leached away so much of her vibrancy. She was remarkable to have survived this long at all, but the toll it had taken was clear in this bleak landscape.

Taking a breath and getting his bearings he could see a light still shining in the farthest corner of her mind, grimly determined, albeit exiled to the part of her brain that mostly processed dreams. This small candle flickering in a starless night was all that was holding back the monsters that hid in the dark.

He wrapped himself around that fragile oasis and guarded it, using all of himself to manifest the light, to reflect and incense it to burn brighter. He showed her herself as he knew her and loved her, how she breathed life into him, the wonder, the confidence, the faith he had in her, he warmed her like oxygen to a flame, directly into the core of her.

At the same time he dulled the pain he could feel echoing inside her body. He could feel her gasp against him and stabilized her mind within his own in response, carefully keeping her suspended and unaware.

Then he opened his eyes, not surprised to find tears running freely down her face now. She didn't even seem to know she was crying anymore, she was obviously emotionally spent.

With a jolt he realized he had been inside her mind for longer than he had intended, and that the carrier had slowed significantly, preparing to dock. His eyes moved to take in the men in the room, and his blood ran cold to see how close they were, how aggressive their stance had become.

His hand fumbled to his ankle, putting in the activation code as quickly as he could. He tightened his hold on Donna, feeling her ribs under his hands as he prayed this would work and that she was strong enough to survive. Even as he pressed the buttons men advanced on them, one of their hands falling heavily on Donna's shoulder, another one grabbing at her leg where it was wrapped around his waist.

iHold on, Donna, just hold on./i

The last sounds he heard before he hit the switch were the angry yelling voices of the guards, the sound of ripping of fabric, then nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

At first there was just light, moving light, and Donna floated as if everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Then there was sound, a thrumming that ran violently through her body. Her mind felt raw and unshielded as a cacophony of sensation flooded into her. And screaming, she could hear a woman screaming.

Then all at once her other senses kicked in; she could feel pain as her own voice went hoarse and the screaming ceased. Underneath her body the hard grating felt cold and made her bones ache, all around her the unforgiving twine cut into her skin.

Through watering eyes she realized the moving green light was that of the console column, pumping organically in concert with the noise that filled her mind to the point of insanity: the song of the TARDIS. The comforting blanket of the Doctor's mind had been ripped from hers and the rawness of sensation was now unbearable.

She fought and bucked against the ropes and the solid body of the Doctor, which had landed half on top of her, blindly trying to push him away. She felt his hands on her face holding her head still.

"Donna…shh…Donna, please calm down, you are hurting yourself." His face so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her ear.

She croaked out a shriek as she felt him press her down on the hard metal of the floor and she fought harder, her weakened limbs flailing. He gripped her head tighter and pressed his forehead to hers, keeping her still. Then suddenly, the Doctor's mind was surrounding her, wrapping her up inside him, buffering the ferocity of energy that was sight and sound and imagery and things she had no concept for, the whirling of a consciousness so different from her own; so alien.

Her screams faded to whimpers and she went limp underneath him, her voice cracking as she gulped air into her burning lungs.

"Shhh… Donna, it's going to be okay, you are safe in the TARDIS. Donna, please just calm down, it will be alright." His tone was fraught with fear, even though he was obviously trying to be soothing.

Now, within the cocoon of his protection, the ship felt like it was merely humming to her and the lights had dimmed to a low light that was easier for her blinking eyes. The Doctor's voice was everywhere until Donna no longer knew if she was hearing it through her ears or in her mind.

A painful tightness formed in her chest and her vision began to tunnel into darkness.

"Just relax love, you are safe… Listen, can you hear her? She is singing to you."

Her arms had fallen uselessly to her sides but her fingertips gripped the railings underneath her as she felt his hand move over her left breast covering her heart. She closed her eyes as panic threatened to storm through her mind again.

His voice lowered, becoming hypnotic. "Donna. Listen to me. Relax. Safe now, you are safe. Listen to her, she is happy you are back, she has missed you."

She lacked the control to overcome her instinct to fight, but had no more strength to resist him. Slowly he moved from on top of her to lie beside her, his face next to hers, anchoring her with the commanding tone in which he spoke.

"Focus on me. Listen to her sing for you, Donna. Just breathe now, slow and steady." She was a fly caught in the amber of his voice, trapping her, stilling her struggle, steadying her panicked mind.

He began to hum in time with the TARDIS. One hand was still on her chest over her heart, the other cupped the side of her face. Donna tried to concentrate on the melody, and the humming underneath that seemed to paralyze the encroaching hysteria, yet brought so many shades of memories to the surface, the feelings of adventure, of the unknown, and of coming home again, to safety.

"I'm sorry, Donna, I'm so sorry, I had to jump us out of there, I had no time, I didn't think, I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

The pain in his voice moved her but when she tried to speak she found she couldn't, and could barely make out his soft words over the wild beating of her heart. The cord cut into her skin and metal the grating dug into her bones. She tried to whisper again but only managed a low moan. He put both his hands to her head for a few moments more until she found herself back in that almost floating place.

"Donna, you are still very ill, your heart has had too much strain, I need you to just relax, I am going to take you to the infirmary to see if we can slow your heart down."

She felt his cool hands leave her face and heard a buzzing sound that she dimly recognized as his screwdriver. The tightness of the twine binding them loosened and she breathed easier as their bodies separated.

Without his hands at her temples she could feel herself spiral down, and she scarcely registered as the Doctor moved away a few feet. As if watching him from outside herself, she could sense him hitting the preset course buttons on the console and feel the ship move underneath her, the whirring hum of movement joining in the song in her mind, before he was back at her side.

She was mostly free of the rope now, but when she tried to sit up her body wouldn't cooperate. She swallowed rising panic and then felt a touch on her shoulder. The Doctor moved until his face was over hers and she could see his eyes, troubled but warm, then he slid one arm carefully around her and the other under her legs.

Despite his tenderness, her surroundings spun around her as he lifted her up in his arms. Somehow into her light-headed drifting, she realized her legs were bare and she clumsily tried to pull her dress down.

"Shh, it's okay, it's just a little bit torn, we'll get you a blanket in just a moment, you're okay, I've got you," the Doctor consoled her softly, and held her body closer against his own.

She turned her cheek against the Doctor's chest in surrender, seeking the beating of his hearts against her own, fuzzily thinking that for once her single heart was beating faster than his two combined.

The next thing Donna knew, she was in the infirmary and the Doctor was leaning over her, smoothing down her dress as he carefully removed remnants of twine from her body and clothing. The medical bed sheets felt starchy against her legs and she managed to look down and see a large rip in the fabric of her smock and angry red scratches standing out against her almost translucent skin that she didn't remember being there before. She was mesmerized by a small drop of blood seeping out of one of the cuts.

"That's where they grabbed at you just before we got out of there," he murmured, and she turned to see an apology in his eyes. He was watching her closely even as his hands worked. "But we are safe now, spinning in the vortex, we did it Donna, we're safe. I got you back."

She was too exhausted to do anything but stare at him as he smiled shakily down at her, and for a moment she was suspended under his gaze. She jumped when monitors suddenly began beeping alarmingly. The Doctor's eyes traveled fast over the read-outs and he produced his glasses from nowhere, pushing them on quickly.

"M fine," she mumbled barely above a whisper.

He ran his hand through his hair a few times. "No. You aren't. The journey with the vortex manipulator took a toll on your already overtaxed body. I think I can help, but it would be easier if I can put you to sleep…"

"No!" the words tumbled out of her mouth without thinking. "I am fine…."

She tried to push herself off of the bed but the Doctor held her down gently as she fought uselessly against him.

"Donna, please calm down." She could hear the rising panic in his tone. "Your body can't take much more…" The unbridled fear she heard in his voice stilled her. She looked at him closely, noting the tension in his eyes and the blood on his shirt. Blood? She looked down at her hands and realized the half-healed cuts had begun to bleed again.

"I might ineed/i to put you to sleep." His eyes were back on the monitors, and he seemed to mostly be talking to himself, strain showing in the tightness around his eyes and the tension in his jaw. Her stomach dropped at the idea of losing consciousness again, when she was already teetering on the edge of control.

"No."

"You are home, Donna, you are safe here. I need to infuse something to protect and strengthen your heart, it cannot heal on its own, you have been through Itoo/i much. Let me help you, please. I can do this, I can bring you back to me, I can make you whole, I can fix this."

He laid her back down and pushed the heels of his hands against his forehead, appearing overcome, and she wondered dimly if he was trying to convince her, or himself.

"Please," he gulped.

Donna got the distinct impression this was her last chance to say yes, to show her trust in him, before he went ahead and did it anyway.

When he dropped his hands from his face and looked at her she nodded quickly before she could change her mind. He fiddled with the tubes and buttons then brought his hands to her face, but she shook her head, panic setting in.

He moved one hand to stroke her hair instead and sat down heavily beside her bed. His other hand came to her throat and he spoke softly.

"Okay, I know you are scared, I'm just going to talk you through what I am doing, just let me take care of you. Right now we have lots of oxygen pumping around you, and the biggest concern is what is called supraventricular tachycardia, in other words, your heart is too fast. I am going to gently massage the vagal nerve…"

His fingertips settled on her throat, a light touch at first, and then firmer. It was the strangest feeling, but before she could react to the tickly pressure, Donna felt dazed, like she was only half-present.

"The vagal nerve sends messages to your heart, and this way I can try to bring your heart rhythm back under control and in sync with your breathing while the medicine goes through your blood stream and endocrine system to do its work."

She blinked sleepily as he continued to talk to her, mesmerizing her with his soft voice and delicate caresses on her cheek as his other hand worked on her throat.

"You are in shock, Donna, when we jumped and became telepathically disconnected it left you vulnerable, too open, and on a neurological level that magnified the effects from the vortex manipulator. Bodies aren't meant to time travel without protection."

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes moving back and forth between the monitors as his fingers slowed. "But then, without our mental connection your heart would have given out, so…"

As he spoke his fingers drifted higher, resting on her cheekbone and she stared up at him.

"I won't lose you again, Donna. You are home now, I will take care of you, even if you fight me, I will make this better, I promise." The pads of his fingers stroked her cheek as he spoke.

Then she was floating again, the insistent beep from the monitor the last thing she heard as the world closed in around her.

Time was now measured for the Doctor by the seeping drips of medicine that flowed into Donna's still body. The chair he had been sitting in all night long creaked a little as he leaned over to check on the infusion, then looked down at her slowly healing body, he couldn't keep his eyes off her for longer than a second or two. It would take a long time to get her back to normal, but he was finally satisfied that she was out of danger. He pulled his glasses off and fiddled with them, the earpieces rough with the bite marks he had left on them waiting for her to wake up, before glancing at her again.

Watching her lying there, tucked under blankets, the Doctor felt glad her violent shivering had finally stopped. His eyes traveled up her body from the soft rise and fall of her chest, past the too-sharp jut of her collarbones to the rapid flutter of her heartbeat under the almost translucent skin of her throat. Blue veins were too prominent under her bruised jaw, and tiny freckles were in sharp relief on her too-pale cheeks. She looked so peaceful now; the only sign of his "old" Donna was the vibrant autumn hair that tumbled across the white pillow.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He had been so frightened that she wouldn't survive, she had felt so frail when he had carried her in here, such a contrast to the last time he lifted her up in his arms, almost a year ago, when she had been laughing and batting at him and full of life.

Her lips had started to turn blue by the time he had got her to the infirmary and he feared that his rescue attempt had done nothing but cut short what little time she had left. And two times in the last few hours that nightmare had nearly come true: he had lost her twice, his voice was hoarse from screaming her name over and over as he sent jolts to her still heart. But he hadn't given up, she had made it this far she could not die now. The tears that had run down his face turned to ones of joy when the monitor began to map out the cardiac beats again.

With her so close to him now he could not stop touching her, his hands moved from gently holding her hand to fumbling for the delicate pulse in her throat – even though the monitors told him her heart rate was strong and steady now, sometimes he just needed to feel it for himself – then his hands moved to her face, carefully avoiding the wounds he had so carefully tended to, one by one.

Before he could lapse into thoughts that tortured him again, he ran a hand through his hair and forced his mind to review her treatment. The medication he was infusing would line her weakened blood vessels, ravaged by prolonged sympathetic nervous system tension, especially the high blood pressure and poor perfusion. Hopefully that would buy time for the nanogenes and the nutrient solution to rebuild heart muscle, and she should show a marked improvement in a few hours. It would still be a long road ahead for her recovery; she would have to take it very easy for quite some time.

He reached for the jars of salves and began another round of applying ointment to her scars and bruises, taking extra care with the fresher cuts, and tamping down guilt as he delicately massaged the abrasions caused by the twine he had used to tie her to him, taking his time over these wounds especially.

She was stirring now and he stiffened, preparing himself for her reaction, but she simply blinked and turned her head slightly to regard him. Her eyes were still glazed but they held his stare.

"Hey," he whispered eventually when she didn't say anything.

"Hey yourself," she murmured, and swallowed, a grimace crossing her features.

He wordlessly handed her a water glass with a straw, holding it for her with his shaking hands as she sipped at it, her eyes still on him.

"Am I dreaming?" she demanded suddenly and his hearts sank a little.

"No, this is real, very real. You are home." He set the water glass aside and grasped her hand, staring into her eyes looking for any sign of fear, holding his breath in case she pulled away from him.

"Tell you what, Spaceman…"

"What?" he breathed, hardly able to contain his joy at how normal she sounded, despite her tired eyes and the rasp in her voice.

"I could murder a nice cup of tea."

He beamed.

The Doctor had moved the kettle to the infirmary, not able to bear being apart from her even as long as it took to brew their tea. But by the next day, most of which she had spent asleep, Donna assured him her stomach could handle some food so he had left her for just as long as it took to make toast: two minutes, 37 seconds.

And in that two minutes and 37 seconds, she was gone.

He set down the tray of cups of tea and hot buttered toast with shaking hands, trying to breathe, trying not to panic, before he tore off down the hallways, calling her name.

He found her again twelve long seconds later, standing in the doorway to her bedroom, leaning on the doorpost. She was eyeing her bedroom like it was a long lost dream. He wanted to scold her for being up on her feet after he had admonished her to stay put, but he bit his tongue instead, seeing something in her face that looked haunted.

"Everything alright?" he asked lightly.

"I haven't slept in here in a really long time," she commented.

He eyed her closely, wondering what was going through her mind, wondering how far back the psychogenic amnesia stretched. Did she remember sharing his bed before he lost her?

"No, Donna, you haven't."

"Did we… are we…?" her words faltered and she rubbed her eyes sleepily. She looked lost and his hearts ached for her.

"Come with me," he whispered, leaning around her to close her bedroom door with both of them still in the hallway. She looked up at him questioningly and he led her back up the corridor, one hand on her lower back, guiding her gently.

"I don't want to go back to the infirmary," she mumbled.

"Okay, just let me get our breakfast and we'll be out of there." He wasn't going to let her out of his sight again.

She stood in the middle of his bedroom while he set down the tray. He watched her out of the corner of his eye while she took in her hairbrush on the dresser, her book on the nightstand, one of her slippers half under the bed. Everything was just as she left it, and when she excused herself to go to the bathroom he knew she would find her toiletries in there too.

But when she emerged again she didn't say anything, just joined him sitting on the bed and grabbed some toast to munch on.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, eating toast and drinking tea, the Doctor sneaking little glances at Donna when she wasn't looking, partly to reassure himself that she was doing okay, and partly to reassure himself that she was really there at all.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her suddenly, surprising both of them.

"This is the best cuppa I have ever had," she said simply, giving him a little smile, and he grinned back at her in return.

"You okay, Doctor?"

"Just… you're quiet, it has been so quiet around here without you…" he trailed off. II have been lost without you./i

She reached for him and squeezed his hand, her eyes on his, full of understanding. He tried to shake himself out of it, she shouldn't be the one comforting him right now, that was his job. But he couldn't move. He was so completely happy to have her back he wanted to bask in her every attention.

She yawned and set down her teacup on the tray with a hand that was still unsteady.

"Why don't you finish your toast and we'll get you to bed," he suggested gently.

"Can't eat any more, I'm too full."

"Okay." He moved the tray to the floor and turned back the covers. She didn't move for a moment, and then reached under her pillow and pulled out her favorite nightie.

"I want to get out of this," she plucked at her smock and he nodded understandingly, confused when she still didn't move, before it clicked in his head that she wanted him to leave her alone to change.

"Oh. Yes, of course, I'll just…" He busied himself ostensibly taking the dishes back to the kitchen (in truth he just set them outside the bedroom door, too afraid to leave her alone again) and when he reentered the room she was already under the blankets, barely conscious enough to respond to his quiet knock at the door.

He settled himself in the chair beside the bed after dimming the lights, leaving just enough illumination to see her features. Nervous exhaustion was evident in her face, pale on the pillow, framed by her now very long hair.

She was looking at him.

"It's okay, Donna, close your eyes, I'll be right here if you need anything."

"I can just… sleep?" Her voice sounded small and uncertain.

He moved the chair closer to the bed and reached out to close his hand over hers.

"Sleep. You are safe now, I promise."

It was barely an hour later when the Doctor noticed her frown in her dreams. He leaned forward in concern when she suddenly sat bolt upright with a cry.

He reached out to her, calling her name, but she fended him off violently and scrambled out of the other side of the bed. He took off after her, adrenaline buzzing in his veins, and caught up to her running through the corridors. Acting on instinct, he stayed back far enough so as not to frighten her, until she ran into the console room and headed straight for the exit doors.

His hearts felt like they were in his throat as he watched her fling open the doors, her nightgown floating around her, her long hair tumbling down her back. The image of her standing there, gazing into the vortex, fear evident in the set of her shoulders, it took him right back to the first day they had met, she had tried to run away from him then too.

He stepped up behind her slowly, jamming his hands in his pockets, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible.

She was breathing heavily, her eyes wild and glistening, but when she saw him she didn't flinch away.

"I just… just had to make sure… I was no longer…" Her arms wrapped protectively around her frail body.

"It's real, you are in space. The TARDIS is real, I am real, and you are safe here. No one will hurt you, Donna."

She shivered, hugging herself tighter, then stumbled to him and his arms came around her as she buried her head in his chest.

"Safe now," he repeated quietly. He pulled the doors closed and led her to the jump seat, watching as she fingered the familiar battered seat cover before hoisting herself onto it. Her sleepwear was so loose on her emaciated body that it covered her completely when she tucked her legs underneath her.

He sat down carefully beside her and they were quiet for a while. He could hear the TARDIS humming, louder than usual, a soft cadence that seemed to wrap around them comfortingly.

"Doctor?" Her eyes stared at her now mostly healed hands.

He moved his hand down her arm, rubbing her gently. "I'm here, Donna."

"When I asked you to tell me a story before, why did you tell me about when we first met the Ood? Why that story?"

"I'm not certain," he ran his free hand through his hair. "Maybe because that was when it began, when I showed you their song. It was just a moment, but that connection between us has been building ever since."

He paused, his fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, his eyes watching her carefully. "I think that's why I could hear you, Donna, even when we were apart. That's how I knew you were still alive, still waiting for me."

She swallowed. "Even though I didn't even believe you were real anymore?"

"I think part of you always knew I was real, and I would always be looking for you. Do you want to talk about it?" He kept his voice tentative, not wanting to rush her.

There was a long silence and then she started, haltingly.

"At first, to survive, all I could do was think about you and the times we had together."

Her nightgown slid off her shoulder and she pushed it back up, it kept sliding off, not fitting her well now she had lost too much weight.

"But then, after a while, I was afraid it was just dreams, fantasies I held close, like some kid with fairy tales that help her sleep. In the end it was scarier to believe that it was real, cause if it wasn't, I just couldn't cope anymore."

He let silence fall between them until she looked down at her toes peeking out from beneath her long sleepwear.

"You never let go of yourself, you know. Even when you didn't accept me, you were still Donna Noble, still brilliant, still strong."

She scoffed. "I wasn't strong. That's rubbish what people say, about hard times making you stronger, it just strips you down, bit by bit, til there's nothing left."

"Not nothing," he protested, "iYou/i. You were still there, still so vibrant, defiant…still Donna. Letting yourself hope can be the hardest thing of all... it makes sense that my being the Doctor, out of nowhere come to rescue you, was too much to reconcile with everything you had survived up to that point. It was easier to think of me as a pretense, as the fantasy. If that was the fabrication that allowed you to go on living through that rescue, then it worked, you held it together, held yourself together, saved our lives in the process, you made it out."

She said nothing for a few minutes and then looked up at him. "I don't know if I did, not entirely. I don't know who I am anymore, or if I will ever really be whole again."

Her words, and the quiet, grief-filled simplicity with which she spoke, shattered him, but he kept his face calm for her sake.

"I know how that feels, believe me, Donna, I do. And you won't be the same ever again, but I am here, I will help you, we will get through this together. Sometimes, when you cannot even stand anymore, and you have lost so much, you turn around and there's" ia bride just materialized in your console room/i "…someone there, and you don't need to run anymore."

She curled up in his arms and he held her until she fell asleep. When he was certain she was deeply in slumber, tears ran down his face unchecked. The horror she had dealt with and the joy of having her back overwhelmed him.

He silently promised the woman in his arms that he would do what he could to make those horrible memories a distant dream for her; then he carefully gathered her in his arms and carried her back to his bed.

Without hesitation, he lay down beside her, his hands on her temples, at first smoothing her hair away from her face until he was sure she was deeply asleep again. Then, not caring about propriety, he entered her mind and held back every monster in the dark before they could steal into her dreams again.


	7. Chapter 7

I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor

I dare you to move

I dare you to move

Like today never happened

Dare You to Move

Switchfoot

As the weeks passed, Donna found that when she was not sleeping well her preferred destination was to be curled up in the library, the safety of good memories protecting her fragile state of mind. That was where she was when the Doctor returned from his final trip to Bruwst.

She let out a breath of relief to see him: he never seemed to be very far from her nowadays. Wherever she shuffled to in the TARDIS in her soft slippers, cocooned in her fluffy robe, he was usually there in a few minutes, walking alongside her, asking her if she needed anything, or just sitting together with her in comfortable silence.

And now he stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets, scuffing his shoes on the carpet.

"Is it done?" she asked finally, unable to bear the tension in the room anymore.

"I gave them a chance. They didn't take it." His tone was clipped.

"So…?"

"They are gone now." There was cold flint in his eyes as he spoke: a look she had seen only a few times before.

Silence fell between them and neither moved, eventually he spoke again, his body rigid.

"I can tell you the details, if you think it will help?" His voice was very controlled and his eyes were dark, he didn't quite look at her.

"No, I don't think it would really." She shuddered.

He nodded, and scratched his head.

Donna swallowed and looked away, overwhelmed. In truth she did want to know, needed to know, but not yet, she couldn't handle seeing the Doctor in that role right now.

She jumped a little when he suddenly clapped his hands together and bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Oh, but you should see it now, Donna! Or well…'now' as in decades later, relatively speaking. Gorgeous place, back to growing only native crops, people happy and thriving, starting up trade on their own terms."

She wondered which one of them he was trying to cheer up with his sudden burst of energy and strained cheerfulness.

"The factory?" she asked quietly, hoping that his exhortation for her to see the place was merely a figure of speech.

"Tore it down, built a bird sanctuary there, you wouldn't even recognize it."

She nodded. "And my friends? The women that helped me?" She could hear her voice start to shake, part of her was terrified to know their fates.

"All home, and safe, every last person who was held there."

She sighed in relief, and guilt. "I should have helped you."

"No, no Donna, it is because of you they are alive at all. They are going to be okay, and in the best of hands for medical care, I saw to it."

The Doctor sat down abruptly on the rug in front of the divan that she was perched on. He looked at her for a minute as if he was going to say something, but then suddenly found great interest in pulling at a loose thread in the couch and nervously cleared his throat.

"Donna, I want to take you to dinner." The words came out so fast she was not even sure if she heard them correctly.

That was not what she expected. The idea of leaving the TARDIS brought fear crashing down on her and all the insecurities and visions of doom she kept banished to the dark came flooding to the forefront of her mind.

He placed his hand besides hers, not quite touching her. "Donna, it's time to go out. I promise it will be safe, it will just be dinner."

She looked at him and could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She knew he was right but the idea of leaving the safety of the TARDIS was almost unthinkable.

"Please, Donna. I won't let anything happen to you."

She bit the inside of her cheek, looked down at her dressing down, and frowned. "I don't have anything to wear, everything looks ridiculous on me now."

"It doesn't matter, Donna. I'll take you to the pajama planet, if that will make you feel comfortable, you look lovely. Please." He moved his face closer to hers, catching her eyes.

She grasped at the opening to make light of things and narrowed her eyes at him. "There's no pajama planet, you're having me on!"

"Would I do that?" He widened his eyes in affected indignation. "Seriously, Donna, planet PJs! You have to see it!"

"I suppose they walk around in their fluffy slippers?"

"Fluffy ibunny/I slippers!" He waggled his eyebrows now.

She socked him very lightly in the arm. "Alright, I'll put some clothes on, but I still don't believe you," she replied with mock gruffness.

He grinned and she couldn't resist smiling back at him.

She cast her eyes about the fancy restaurant as another cheer went up from the crowd in the center of the room, then slid lower in her seat.

"Donna, is the noise bothering you?" The Doctor leaned closer to her.

"Nah, makes a change from all those tiny quiet places you've been taking me, with no other customers, it's almost like you are afraid to be seen out with me!" She smiled at him to show him she was joking but his hand moved over hers and concern crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"You know that's not why," he said quietly. "This is normally a very serene place too, but I didn't know they were hosting the local team's celebration dinner tonight. Are you certain you don't want to come back tomorrow? We could just jump in the TARDIS…"

She squeezed his hand and shook her head. "I'm fine."

He nodded towards her plate. "Then why haven't you touched your dinner?"

Donna looked down at her meal then hunched down further in her seat as another convivial roar went up from the sports team, echoing through the dining room. She swallowed convulsively, her hand gripping the Doctor's harder than she meant to.

For a moment she couldn't think straight, all these people, it fractured her mind and she could no longer hold everything together. It was just a moment but it was enough to start her heart hammering in her chest. She felt like every one was watching her, and that paralyzing feeling that she would be dragged away from the Doctor crept over her. It was a recurrent nightmare she had both when she was awake and asleep.

"Okay?" he asked softly.

Both his hands were caressing hers now. She watched as his eyes slid over her shoulder to the doors beyond.

"Come on, let's go outside, get some air." He stood up and came to her side, blocking her view of the other people.

For a second she didn't move, she didn't want him to keep feeling like he had to rush her back home at the slightest thing. The first time he had taken her to dinner the overly helpful maître d' had tried to take her jacket from her shoulders and she had jumped away from him before she could stop herself. The Doctor had turned them right around and escorted her straight back to the TARDIS without batting an eye, not making a fuss, just saying it was too soon.

She had to show him she was better now, she had to do something to get him to calm down. "I don't need to go home," she started.

He took her hand in his. "Let's go the balcony then, it's nice and private."

He led her outside, keeping himself between her and the other people. He was right about it being peaceful, he closed the doors behind them and they stood side by side under a cavalcade of stars. Another quiet night on a quiet planet in a quiet time period: the only kind of place he had taken her since he had rescued her.

Not that she was complaining, mind you, she needed the quiet right now, just the two of them. The serenity of the night seeped into her mind and she felt herself relaxing, her heart rate slowing, her fragmented self-control regaining coherence. It was so much easier when they were alone.

He slid an arm around her shoulders as they leant on a railing and looked out at a magnificent vista, the stars reflected in an almost glassy lake beneath the tiny restaurant. Rainbow-hued fireflies buzzed in tiny glowing haloes of multi-colored luminescence around the vaguely tree-shaped foliage that circled the lake, but otherwise the night was still. And quiet.

She nestled against him and he turned to her, his eyes searching hers. Donna had the distinct impression that he was going to kiss her. She shivered in anticipation, wanting nothing more in the world than the feeling of his lips against hers right then. Again. His lips on hers, warm, gentle and yet wanting, exciting her and comforting her at the same time, something familiar… and yet as far as she knew there was no 'again' – the only time she had kissed him was in the kitchen in the 1920s, to save his life.

So why did it feel like something that she missed so much? Something that was missing in their closeness these past few weeks as he nursed her back to health.

He didn't kiss her. He just hugged her close and turned back to looking at the water. Donna pouted a little. Was she imagining it, this thing between them that remained unspoken? This was the sixth posh restaurant he had brought her to in as many days…

Yet she could not believe that he could feel like that towards her. With her ill-fitting clothes and too thin body she felt old and tired, even these simple trips to eat dinner would wear her out, although she did her best to hide her fatigue from the Doctor. He watched over her like a hawk and she hated to see the worry in his eyes. She knew he was glad to have her back but the intensity of his gaze startled her sometimes, and made her wonder if she was as much his lifeline as he was hers.

Taking a deep breath she finally blurted out what was on her mind. "What's this about then? Are you trying to fatten me up, Doctor, or woo me?"

He grinned and dropped her an affable wink. "Both."

Then he ruffled his hair and looked away. Donna looked at him speculatively. Was he serious? Was he blushing?

"Well, maybe we should get on with it then, before I get so fat eating in all these five star restaurants that you can't squeeze me through the TARDIS door!"

He smiled down at her and moved his hand to her side, lightly running his fingers under her cardigan so briefly it was as if she had imagined it.

"I'll have no more talk of you getting fat, Earthgirl; I can still count your ribs. There are many, many more gourmet eating places in your future if that's what it takes to put some meat on your bones, you'd better get used to it."

She stuck her tongue out at him, feeling the need to shrug off his mother hen attitude, and also feeling frustrated that he was deliberately ignoring her invitation to talk about any romantic motivation to his actions.

Out with it then, Donna, she decided.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do I want to snog you right now?"

He froze for a moment, then extricated himself from their embrace, his mouth working but no sounds coming out.

He stumbled back a step and just looked at her helplessly. Donna went on, feeling embarrassed but wanting to solve this mystery.

"Only, ever since we've been together again, it almost feels like something's missing, and my mind's all clouded about how things were before I was taken, and I have all these…"

ithoughts, feelings, sensations like out of a cheesy romance novel, a good Berotic/B romance novel …/i

"…images, in my head," she finished weakly, running out of steam and hoping she hadn't said too much. If this was all in her imagination and nothing else…

He drew himself up to his full height and his tongue curved to the roof of his mouth as he looked at her.

"You sure you want to talk about this?" he asked finally, his eyebrows high.

She nodded firmly, all out of words.

"Alright." He exhaled in a rush. "Alright. But I want you to know one thing, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, her stomach doing somersaults.

"There are no expectations. No pressure. Nothing like that. Nothing at all. You are only just barely getting back on your feet and I wouldn't—that is, I wouldn't, weeelllllll…"

"Not just in my head then?" she asked faintly, feeling slightly dizzy all of a sudden.

"No, not in your head, no."

He'd stopped touching her, she noticed, and was keeping a respectful few feet between them now.

"Donna, maybe we should sit down."

She gulped as he led her across the balcony to a bench under a canopy of what looked like cherry blossoms. She sat down abruptly before the dizziness became too much and then stared fixedly at the ground until her equilibrium came back. A soft breeze dusted occasional flower petals over them as they sat together. But not too together, he was maintaining a careful distance and watching her with that dark look back in his eyes, and she knew he was torturing himself with remembrances of what had happened to her.

"You really can't remember?" he began hesitantly.

"Sometimes it seems real, like as if I just came up and touched you and kissed you it would be the most natural thing in the world, something we did all the time…"

She could feel heat rise in her face and did her best to ignore it.

"…And then other times it feels unreal, like I'm only remembering snatches of a dream."

He was still staring at her, his eyes intense. "It wasn't a dream. It's real, Donna, you and I were very much together."

His eyes were trained on her and she knew he was gauging her reaction.

"You mean, with the kissing… and everything?" she squeaked.

"Yes."

"Blimey."

Donna swallowed and let silence fall between them, trying to process something she had known in her heart to be true but had not dared believe it. She turned to him, he was unmoving, as if holding his breath. She managed what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but came out more of an impish grin.

"Blimey," she said again.

He nodded, and smiled at her a little shyly, his adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat.

"Doctor, how come I don't remember that?"

"You don't, not at all?" He reached out to her and she looked at him for a moment before realizing he wanted to hold her hand but didn't want to be so presumptuous as to take it.

"I…well, if I do it feels like I dreamt it?" She slipped her hand into his waiting palm.

"You have what humans call psychogenic amnesia. A combination of retrograde and anterograde amnesia following a traumatic event or head injury—"

He stopped when she lifted her eyebrows, then went on, "…which just means you can't recall things before and after the kidnapping, not just the event itself, the continuity of memory is broken."

She nodded, looking down. She wasn't comfortable dwelling on what happened to her, and she squirmed when he talked about her like she was a mental patient.

He took a breath and continued, "Who you are, and what happened to you, and the world you perceived around you, if they are in conflict and your mind cannot reconcile the normally well-integrated elements of reality then incompatible or unacceptable emotion and knowledge becomes dissociated, compartmentalized even."

She wrinkled her nose. "You sound like a textbook."

He tapped the side of his head. "Perils of encyclopedic knowledge, I'm afraid."

Donna looked down at their entwined hands and thought about what he was telling her. When she didn't say anything for a while he tilted his head to catch her eye and she squeezed his hand, fighting for words.

"Makes sense though, I suppose. Like if you and I became… well, whatever, not long before I was gone, then my mind just tucked that away, cause it was inconsistent with nearly all of our friendship before that."

iAnd all btoo/b consistent with many months of dreaming and fantasizing about shacking up with you,/i she didn't add, not ready for him to know that; being in a relationship with him might be new for her, however, wanting to be in one with him was anything but.

She looked up at him. "But it really did happen?"

"Yes."

"So you and I… how? How did we… how did it happen?"

"Well, it wasn't just one time… there was this cramped jail cell, then a particularly cold one, and the time you and Martha with the… thing that you did, in the hotel room, to distract the uh, bachelor party…"

His ears went pink at that memory. He rushed on, his words tumbling over themselves as he pulled at his bangs.

"Then the palace with only one free bedroom with only one bed, and the Fulalieegengk rites of passage, and the panda bear, which wasn't a panda bear, and the Poosh handfasting which wasn't even really a wedding except, well… and more holding cells, and the time when we pretended to be married to Jack in order to…"

He trailed off when Donna started laughing, she couldn't help it, the tension between them tonight was in some ways exquisite, but also a lot for her to take right now, and he just looked so earnest as he tried to trace the development of their relationship through their adventures.

"Yes, Doctor, I fully remember all those times, what I mean is, how did we, you know, how did we actually get beyond all that?"

He looked lost for a second and she realized that for all his encyclopedic knowledge he probably couldn't wrap his head around what she meant.

"I don't know how to quantify the tipping point," he admitted, fidgeting.

She scooched closer to him on the bench until her body was pressed up against his, which didn't seem to help him think any more clearly if his wide eyes were anything to go by.

"Doctor, how about you just tell me about the first time we kissed, properly I mean."

"It wasn't anything like those adventures," he said simply. "You just showed up one morning in the console room to tell me off for waking you with my banging around with the mallet."

His eyes unfocused slightly and a smile curved on his lips. "You were in your robe with your hair all crazy beautiful and no make up or anything and you were giving me a hard time and I just—"

He broke off for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck, a far away look on his face. Donna held her breath, even the fireflies seemed suspended in time, waiting for him to continue.

"I just came over to you and kissed you. I don't really know what came over me but I couldn't help myself any longer. I just… I looked at you and I knew I loved you so much." He took her hand and looked in her eyes.

"I love you, Donna Noble. I love you when you grumble at me, I love you when you are scared and trying to hide it, I love you when you overcook the eggs, and when you fly the TARDIS into nebulae and meteor showers. I love you when you are brave and when you are happy and when you are tired and when you drive me mad putting yourself at risk to rescue baby panda bears and when you sing in the shower."

He had to stop when she placed her fingers over his mouth, shaking her head, tears in her eyes, overcome with the depth of emotion in his voice.

"I love you," he whispered into her fingers. She let her hand fall away again. Somehow, she found the strength to echo those words back to him and then she fell into his arms.

After a while of sitting quietly, neither of them saying anything, the Doctor rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Donna?"

She mumbled something incoherent in reply.

"Donna, I need you to know that us talking about this doesn't mean anything has to change. I don't want you to feel any pressure to relate to me any differently, okay? Now is not the time for that, you need space, time to heal, you need a friend, and I can still be that for you, you don't have to think of me as… anything else…"

She pulled herself up to look at him, something in her eyes silencing yet another nervous babble.

"Donna?"

And then she kissed him.


End file.
